THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT 


My  Quaker  Maid 


-BY- 


MARAH  ELLIS   RYAN 


-AUTHOR  OF- 


"ToLD  IN  THE  HILLS,"   "A  PAGAN  OF  THE  ALLEGHANIES," 
"SQUAW  ^LOUISE,"  "!N  LOVE'S  DOMAIN,"   "MERZE,"  ETC. 


CHICAGO  AND  NEW  YORK: 
RAND,  McNALLY  &  COMPANY, 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1906,  by  Rand,  McKally  &  Co. 


PS 


MY  QJJAKER  MAID 


CHAPTER  I. 

Gallop !  gallop !  gallop !  rode  two  men  in  the  spring 
time  of  their  lives,  and  the  spring  of  the  year  as  it 
smiles  on  Northern  Maryland.  All  the  sweet  odors 
of  the  new-turned  soil,  and  the  fragrance  of  the 
first  orchards,  swept  past  them,  and  the  pink  petals 
of  peach  trees  made  rosy  spots  near  and  far  through 
the  clearings. 

But  neither  of  the  gentlemen  riders,  nor  the 
slender  colored  boy  with  a  portmanteau  pegging 
along 'in  their  rear,  gave  aught  of  heed  to  the  road 
side  beauties.  Occasionally  one  or  the  other  would 
glance  back  over  shoulder  when  some  eminence  was 
reached,  but  their  speed  was  only  checked  where  a 
hamlet  was  passed;  a  field  where  curious  farmers 
rested  on  their  plow  handles  to  stare  at  the  unusual 
strangers  traveling  along  the  back  road;  for  a  bit 
unusual  they  certainly  appeared  to  the  rural  eye, 
despite  the  red  clay  of  the  country  on  man  and  beast. 

Their  horses  were  magnificent  animals — to  be  given 
notice  for  their  breeding  anywhere,  and  their  equip 
ment  was  in  keeping;  while  the  fine  gray  coats  of 
their  riders  could  not  all  conceal  the  costume  of 
men  of  fashion  in  the  fifties. 


6  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"We  had  been  less  noticed  to  have  kept  to  the 
turnpike  where  travelers  pass  hourly,"  grumbled 
the  taller  and  more  handsome  man  of  the  two. 
"How  much  farther  does  this  devilish  trail  lead  us 
into  the  wilderness?" 

"Less  than  five  miles  to  the  State  line,  and  com 
parative  safety." 

' '  Safety  ?  You  mean  breathing  time ! ' '  retorted  the 
other.  ' '  And  this  filly  of  mine—  Oh !  curse  the  luck !' ' 

For  in  crossing  a  stretch  of  corduroy  road  at  the 
edge  of  a  marshy  stream  she  broke  through  one  of 
the  half-rotted  logs,  stumbled,  and  came  to  a  stand 
— her  foot  fast. 

The  rider  and  the  much  frightened  black  boy  were 
on  the  ground  in  an  instant,  carefully  extricating 
the  prisoned  member,  the  rider  patting  her  sides 
affectionately  with  a  hand  on  which  a  bandage  had 
slipped  down  from  the  wrist,  stained  slightly  with 
blood,  as  from  some  late  injury. 

"Good  girl — good  girl!"  he  said,  as  he  led  her 
along  the  edge  of  the  treacherous  road,  watching  her 
carefully  as  she  lifted  the  hurt  foot.  At  the  border 
of  the  little  stream  he  halted,  leaned  on  the  saddle 
and  stared  across  at  his  friend  on  the  other  side. 

"It's  no  use,  Rob,"  he  said,  briefly.  "She's  gone 
lame;  I'll  not  run  her  another  mile — sheriff  or  no 
sheriff!" 

The  other  struck  his  fist  into  his  palm  with  a 
smothered  imprecation  and  slid  from  his  saddle. 

"Take  mine;  I  will  be  a  lighter  weight  for  her, 
and  we  can  make  it." 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  7 

"  No ;  she  can't  make  the  pace — it's  no  use  trying! 
We've  got  to  separate.  You  post  me  where  to 
wait  on  the  other  side  of  the  line  for  you.  I  don't 
know  a  rod  of  your  Yankee  land  outside  of  cities. 
Where  is  the  plantation  of  your  Quaker  friend,  the 
horse  breeder?" 

He  was  still  rubbing  the  animal's  foreleg  ruefully, 
and  the  tone  of  anxiety  appeared  as  much  for  the 
hurt  as  for  his  own  safety. 

"Three  miles  the  other  side  of  the  line,"  said  the 
young  fellow  called  Rob.  "He  bred  this  colt  of 
mine  and  will  know  it  on  sight.  You  take  it — give 
him  my  name  and  he'll  be  pleased  to  entertain  you 
until  my  arrival.  I  must  go  home  first,  but  I'll 
join  you  at  Marquand's  to-night." 

"Have  you  really  people  in  your  North  who  will 
entertain  travelers  without  further  introduction  than 
that?  I  should  prefer  a  tavern  to  any  private  hos 
pitality  ;  it  is  difficult  to  accept  courtesies  and  avoid 
answering  ordinary  questions." 

"Never  trouble  yourself  about  that,"  remarked 
his  friend,  with  a  curious  smile.  "If  all  tales  are 
true,  Friend  Noah  is  accustomed  to  entertaining 
guests  who  prefer  the  same  reticence.  And  you 
will  see  a  prettier  girl  on  that  plantation  than  to  be 
met  at  any  tavern  stand.  Pretty!  There's  only 
one  girl  in  the  old  Quaker  State  to  compare  with 
her  for  charm — and  I'm  not  giving  you  her  address! 
But  Jack  Marquand  would  take  the  shine  off  most 
of  your  fine  quality  ladies  of  Baltimore," 

"Jack?" 


8  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"  Jack  is  the  Quaker  maid  you'll  want  to  win  when 
you  see  her;  her  real  name  is  Jaqcynthia." 

"A  Quaker  maid  for  me?  No,  thank  you!"  he 
growled,  and  Rob  laughed. 

"Has  your  latest  duel  made  you  a  temporary 
cynic  to  the  sex?"  he  demanded ;  but  his  friend  only 
frowned,  and  ignored  the  question. 

"What  is  the  man's  name?"  he  asked,  as  he 
swung  into  the  saddle. 

"Marquand — Noah  Marquand." 

"That's  not  a  Quaker  name — it's  French." 

"Happens  to  be  both,"  retorted  his  friend. 
"What's  in  a  name,  anyway?  You'd  ride  as  well 
and  shoot  as  straight,  Mr.  Jenkens,  if  you  were 
called  Jones." 

"  Keep  your  doubtful  pleasantries  for  someone  in  the 
humor  for  them,"  suggested  Mr.  Jenkens,  scowlingly. 
Then,  as  he  gathered  up  the  reins,  a  frightened  cry 
from  his  servant  caused  him  to  look  ahead  where  a 
horseman  had  just  dashed  from  a  side  lane  into  the 
road,  and  checked  his  animal,  facing  them. 

Mr.  Jenkens  whistled  softly,  dropped  the  reins 
again,  and  pulled  his  coat  sleeve  lower  over  the 
stained  bandage  on  his  wrist. 

"The  game  is  up,  Rob!"  he  said,  with  an  airy 
gesture  of  finality.  "  That  was  an  officer  we  sighted ; 
he's  taken  some  short  cut  and  headed  us  off." 

"Go  back?" 

"Fo'  Gord's  sake,  Mahs  Kirkley,"  begged  the 
colored  boy,  who  was  ashen  from  fright,  "don'  yo' 
'vise  us  to  go  back — thah!" 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  9 

"Keep  quiet,  Nat!"  said  Mr.  Jenkens.  "There's 
no  use  turning  back,  Rob;  he  has  left  some  one  to 
guard  the  rear  unless  he's  a  fool — and  he  doesn't 
ride  like  one." 

"What's  to  be  done?" 

The  other  drew  a  cigar  from  his  pocket,  and  lit 
it  before  replying. 

"  I  reckon  it's  a  little  game  of  bluff  for  you,  Robin, 
my  boy,"  he  said,  easily.  "If  you  play  it  as  well 
as  you  did  on  me  our  last  evening  at  cards,  you 
stand  a  chance  to  win.  Come  on.  I've  been  long 
ing  for  a  smoke  this  hour  past.  The  addition  to 
our  company  will  give  us  leisure  for  that,  anyway." 

"Gad!"  muttered  his  friend,  "is  that  your  upper 
most  thought.  I  feel  more  like  shooting  his  horse 
and  making  a  run  for  it." 

"Try  diplomacy  first,"  suggested  Mr.  Jenkens, 
who,  if  he  felt  anxiety,  could  conceal  it  better  than 
his  friend.  They  rode  slowly  on  toward  the  waiting 
horseman,  who  eyed  them  keenly  and  held  his  nag 
with  one  strong,  nervous  hand;  the  other  was  at 
his  side,  hidden  from  them.  Both  men  guessed 
that  it  held  a  pistol  in  good  condition. 

But,  as  they  came  closer,  they  were  surprised  to 
see  that  hidden  right  hand  make  a  slow  backward 
movement  as  though  thrusting  something  in  his 
pocket ;  and  in  response  to  their  salutation  he  touched 
his  hat  in  a  half  apologetic  manner  blended  with 
chagrin. 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  as  they  ranged 
alongside,  "  I  reckon  you  wonder  why  I  nearly 


io  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

broke  my  own  neck — to  say  nothing  of  my  horse's — 
trying  to  head  you  off  at  this  turn?  I  believe  this 
is  Mr.  Robinson  Kirkley  of  Kirkleysford,  is  it  not?" 

"That  is  my  name,"  assented  Mr.  Kirkley;  "and 
unless  my  memory  is  at  fault,  you  are  Mr.  Kane, 
lately  elected  sheriff  of  our  county  across  the  line." 

"Exactly!  I've  been  over  here  in  Maryland  on 
a  matter  of  business,  and,  coming  back,  thought 
I'd  found  some  more  work  rather  in  my  line.  You'll 
be  surprised  to  know  I've  been  trying  to  run  you 
down  for  the  past  ten  miles!" 

The  colored  boy  smothered  a  groan;  Mr.  Kirkley 
looked  astounded,  and  Mr.  Jenkens  mildly  curious. 

"An  actual  fact,  gentlemen,"  asserted  the  sheriff, 
enjoying  their  surprise.  "And  when  I  tell  you  I 
was  trying  to  ride  you  down  because  one  of  you  was 
supposed  to  be  a  runaway  white  nigger,  you'll 
understand  just  how  cheap  I  feel  over  the  affair." 

The  surprise  of  the  two  was  so  very  decided,  as 
they  exchanged  astounded  glances,  that  the  sheriff 
hastened  to  apologize. 

"Not  for  any  money  would  I  have  connected  a 
member  of  your  family  with  such  an  affair,  Mr. 
Kirkley.  But  it  is  pretty  well  understood  that  the 
underground  railway  does  have  helpers  somewhere 
near  the  line  here,  and  we  have  to  be  always  on  the 
alert  regarding  strange  travelers.  You've  been 
abroad  for  a  spell,  and  can  scarcely  realize  how  much 
worse  conditions  are." 

"But — when  the  man  is  a  negro — "  began  Mr. 
Kirkley,  with  a  puzzled  frown, 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  n 

"Oh!  the  description  suggests  a  white  man;  he 
could  easily  pass  for  white  in  the  North— is  above 
average  height,  wore  clothes  of  a  gentleman  planter, 
and  the  description  fitted  your  friend  so  well  I 
thought  I  had  a  sure  thing  of  it  when  you  left  the 
pike  for  this  back  road  where  few  strangers  travel. 
And,  by  the  Constitution,  you  rode  a  good  race!" 

"Yes — a  bit  of  a  wager,"  stated  Mr.  Kirkley. 
"  But  a  lame  horse  spoiled  it.  Let  me  introduce 
you  to  my  friend,  Mr.  Marshall  Jenkens  of  Vir 
ginia." 

The  gentleman  from  Virginia  courteously  acknowl 
edged  the  introduction  and  apologies;  and,  as  war 
rant  of  his  favor,  offered  an  excellent  Cuban  cigar 
to  Mr.  Kane  as  the  three  continued  their  journey 
more  leisurely  toward  the  North. 

When  they  reached  the  next  crossroad,  the  sheriff 
was  pleased  to  learn  that  he  was  to  have  the  dis 
tinguished  company  of  the  Kirkleysford  heir  across 
to  the  turnpike,  five  miles  away.  Some  day,  if  he 
followed  the  rule  of  his  forefathers,  Robinson  Kirk- 
ley  would  be  a  political  power  in  the  county,  and 
well  worth  cultivating  by  the  seekers  after  office. 

And  Mr.  Jenkens,  whose  business,  unfortunately, 
called  him  in  a  different  direction,  parted  from  them 
with  hand  shakings,  and  evident  reluctance;  and, 
with  only  the  nervous  colored  boy  as  companion, 
rode  on  his  lonely  way  toward  the  State  line. 


12  MY  QUAKER  MAID 


CHAPTER  II. 

Hi!  Betty  Martin!     Tiptoe!  Tiptoe! 
Hi!  Betty  Martin!     Tiptoe  fine! 

The  strumming  of  a  guitar  lent  mellow  accom 
paniment  to  the  high,  sweet,  girlish  voice  of  Dorothy 
Starr,  as  she  danced  down  between  the  rows  of  bud 
ding  daffodils  and  narcissus;  and  Jaqcynthia  Mar- 
quand  turned  from  a  favorite  rose  tree  she  was  prun 
ing,  to  shake  her  head  smilingly  at  the  pretty  visitor. 

"I  fear  thee  is  possessed  of  a  mischievous  spirit 
this  morning,  Dorothy.  Thee  knows  so  well  how 
Aunt  Tabitha  abhors  those  lilting  airs." 

"La!  Friend  Tabitha  Morgan  feels  it  her  duty 
to  abhor  the  sun  in  its  course  if  it  means  gayety. 
Your  father  said  I  might  visit  you  during  his  three 
days  of  absence.  He  knows  I  sing,  he  knows  I 
dance,  he  knows  I  am  all  that  is  deplorably  worldly, 
yet  I'm  invited!  Do  you  fancy  I  mean  to  let  you 
moon  away  the  time  during  those  three  days? 
Well,  I  shan't!  My  father  let  me  come  before  I'd 
been  back  from  the  city  twenty-four  hours,  because 
he  thinks  your  example  will  reflect  divine  grace 
upon  me.  But,  Jack,  dear,  I've  brought  the  guitar 
—I've  brought  the  book  of  plays.  We  will  sing, 
we  will  dance,  and  Friend  Tabitha  may  go — pray!" 

Noah  Marquand's  daughter  surveyed  her  reck 
less  visitor  with  amused  eyes,  and  an  adorable 
smile  curving  her  rose  of  a  mouth. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  13 

"Thy  visit  of  a  month  to  the  city  has  sent  thee 
back  more  worldly  than  ever,  I  fear,"  she  remarked, 
ruefully.  "But  thy  ungodly  hat  is  wonderfully 
becoming." 

Dorothy  promptly  kissed  her,  and  drew  off  the 
disfiguring  garden  gloves  from  Jack's  strong,  slender 
hands. 

"They  should  never  labor,  these  wonderful  hands 
of  yours,  Jack,  dear,"  she  insisted.  "I  always 
fancy  how  they  would  look  flashing  with  rings. 
And  a  gown  of  satin — white  is  your  color,  Jack — 
and  a  rose  back  of  your  ear,  and  only  a  scarf  of  lace 
over  your  arms  and  shoulders.  And  music — not  my 
tinkle,  but  real  music  for  you  to  dance  to — and, 
oh!  Jack!  Jack! — the  right  man  to  dance  with!" 

Dorothy's  hopeless  wail  over  the  utter  improb 
ability  of  such  a  to-be-desired  combination  was 
almost  tragical,  and  was  broken  in  upon  by  Jaq- 
cynthia's  laughter. 

"They  have  put  wonderful  pictures  in  thy  head 
there  in  Philadelphia,"  she  agreed,  as  they  reached 
the  house.  "  But  cast  thy  eyes  about  the  room 
and  observe  how  little  this  framework  fits  such 
pictures.  We  are  simple  folk,  Dorothy,  and  like 
to  remain  so  all  our  days." 

Dorothy  Starr  obediently  cast  her  blue  eyes  over 
the  room  they  had  entered. 

It  was  magnificent  in  proportion;  paneled  in 
dark  wood,  and  furnished  in  old  mahogany  of 
wonderful  carving.  Silken  samplers,  worked  in 
conventional  lilies  cf  white  and  roses  of  pink, 


i4  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

framed  scriptural  texts,  and  broke  the  severity  of 
the  paneled  walls. 

On  a  mantel,  beside  stately  silver  candelabra, 
some  beautiful  sea  shells  of  pink  echoed  the  bright 
note  given  by  spiky  branches  of  peach  blossoms  in 
a  glittering  cut  glass  bowl  on  the  center  table;  and 
daffodils,  in  a  green  boat  of  Chinese  porcelain, 
glowed  from  the  wide  window  sill. 

Dorothy  surveyed  it  all  approvingly,  and  then 
her  eyes  turned  again  to  the  lithe,  strong  figure  in 
straight  gown  of  gray,  and  surplice  waist  with  the 
tiny  bands  of  white  at  throat  and  wrist. 

"The  frame  is  all  very  well,"  she  said,  finally. 
"  If  you  went  more  into  the  world  you  would  know 
it  is  a  fit  setting  for  a  princess.  Not  a  thing  but 
silks  should  rustle  here;  yet  you  content  yourself 
with  a  stuff  gown  and  garden  gloves!" 

"Has  the  city  given  thee  so  much  discontent 
that  it  is  too  heavy  a  burden  to  bear  alone? "  queried 
her  hostess.  "And  must  I  take  my  share  of  it? 
The  stuff  dress  is  very  good  for  the  garden,  and 
the  gloves  save  the  fingers  from  the  thorns." 

"But  why  work  among  the  thorns?  I  tell  you 
it  is  silken  mitts  you  should  wear,  and  satins  to 
rustle  when  you  walk." 

Jack  only  laughed,  and  took  a  bunch  of  keys 
from  the  drawer  of  a  cabinet. 

"Here,"  she  said,  gayly,  "are  the  keys  of  my 
worldly  French  grandmother.  If  silks  can  rest 
thy  spirit,  thee  can  find  release  from  thy  sorrows 
by  viewing  them  as  they  dangle  from  their  pegs." 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  15 

Dorothy  darted  to  the  arm  of  her  friend's  chair, 
and  perched  there,  laughing,  and  shaking  her. 

"I  shall  see  them  for  three  days  draped  from 
these  shoulders,"  she  declared.  "I  vow,  Jack, 
none  of  the  city  belles  could  hold  a  candle  to  you 
if  only  you  would  show  yourself.  La!  you  should 
see  their  powder  and  perfumes,  and  poker-made 
curls !  Oh !  guess  who  was  the  belle  of  all  the  belles 
of  the  Assembly? — who  but  Peter  Mintern's  wife!" 

"Our  cousin,  Susanne  Marquand?  But" — with 
a  puzzled  smile — "she  is  married!" 

"I  think  she  forgets  it  when  she  can."  And 
Dorothy's  shrug  and  smile  brought  a  little  frown 
to  Jaqcynthia's  straight  brows.  "Married?  Of 
course  she  is!  Only  a  married  woman  dare  coquet 
as  she  does!  All  the  dandies  wait  on  a  word  from 
her.  And  no  one  remembers  that  her  name  ever 
was  Susanne.  It's  Susette,  if  you  please!  Her 
dresses  come  from  France,  and  she  leads  all  the 
fashions.  Yet — oh!  you  gray  mouse,  how  you 
could  make  her  forgotten  if  you  only  would  accept 
her  oft-repeated  invitation  and  go  visit  her  for  a 
season!" 

"My  poor  child!"  and  the  dark  eyes  were  plainly 
mocking  now.  "Has  she  sported  a  longer  feather 
than  that  in  thy  own  hat?  Or  has  thee  a  cavalier 
who  holds  her  fan  too  often?" 

"La!  She  has  done  not  a  thing  to  me!  But 
she  is  the  gayest  flirt  who  ever  flaunted  her  con 
quests  in  Philadelphia.  The  women  all  wished 
her  back  in  Baltimore.  They  say  she  has  broken 


16  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

up  three  engagements  and  laughs  at  it  as  a  victory 
over  younger,  prettier  girls.  And  even  though 
she  is  a  relation,  you  can't  uphold  her  in  that,  Jack." 

"I  uphold  her  in  nothing.  I  scarcely  know  her. 
Once  she  visited  here — it  was  years  ago.  She  is 
cousin  to  my  father,  but  he  never  approved  of  her 
gay  doings,  or  even  of  her  marriage." 

"La!  She  married  well — lots  of  money,  and  a 
handsome  fortune  settled  on  her  in  her  own  right. 
Peter  Mintern  makes  a  doll  of  her — the  dear,  funny 
little  man  knows  nothing  of  those  broken  engage 
ments.  Still,  they  say  he  does  know  enough  to  be 
jealous;  they  have  terrific  quarrels  sometimes. 
If  they  were  not  so  wealthy,  society  would  call  them 
scandalous." 

"  If  thee  has  any  further  burden  to  unload  regard 
ing  my  father's  cousin,  it  is  as  well  to  get  it  off  thy 
mind  before  he  returns,"  observed  Jaqcynthia, 
with  a  trifle  of  scorn.  "He  would  not  relish  the 
thought  that  the  conduct  of  a  woman  of  his  family 
could  be  called  scandalous." 

"Temper  becomes  you,  dear.  I  shan't  say  one 
more  word  of  the  naughtiness  of  Susanne,  or  even 
tell  you  of  the  fine  Captain  Gleason,  of  the  British 
Navy,  who  entertains  on  a  beautiful  yacht,  and 
who  is  her  shadow,  or  of  the  gossip  of  the  dashing 
Dick  Cardiff,  of  Baltimore,  who  is  her  husband's 
kinsman;  and  who  fights  duels,  wins  at  races,  wins 
at  cards,  and — so  it  is  whispered — is  the  one  gallant 
Madame  Susette  has  tried  in  vain  to  bring  to  her 
feet!" 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  17 

"A  great  victory,  had  she  succeeded!"  was  the 
scornful  comment. 

"La!  Of  course  it  would  be!  He  is  the  hero 
of  a  dozen  romances.  Betty  is  wearing  the  willow 
for  him,  and  they  say  he  is  handsome  as  a  lover  in 
a  poem!" 

"Oh!  enough  of  such  charms!  Thee  knows  how 
I  detest  such  blustering  braggarts.  Philadelphia 
quality  folk  have  done  thee  little  but  harm— or  so 
it  seems  to  me.  To  gamble,  to  race,  and  to  murder 
have  become  social  amusements,  have  they?  No 
wonder  the  head  of  poor  Susanne  has  been  turned. 
Has  this  fire-eating  slave  driver  won  thy  fancy  as 
well  as  poor  Betty  Harding's?" 

"I've  never  had  the  luck  to  see  him,  but  I  should 
love  to!  Betty  declares  he  dances  like  an  angel." 

"In  what  part  of  the  Testament  does  Betty 
find  record  of  dancing  angels?"  asked  her  hostess, 
ironically.  "I've  heard  my  father  mention  the 
name  of  Richard  Cardiff.  He  knew  this  man's 
mother  before  she  married  the  Marylander;  and 
one  of  the  late  runaway  slaves  came  from  a  planta 
tion  adjoining  his — they  caught  the  poor  fellow 
with  dogs  at  the  river's  edge." 

Her  eyes  had  lost  their  serene  calm,  and  were  lit 
with  disdain.  No  Quaker  meekness  was  now  their 
portion. 

"La!  You  must  not  blame  Beau  Cardiff  for  his 
neighbors'  dogs,"  protested  Dorothy.  "He  is  too 
much  beloved  to  be  cruel  himself." 

"Beloved!     Beau  Cardiff!"  repeated  Noah  Mar- 


1 8  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

quand's  daughter  with  contempt.  "Beau!  that 
means  a  dandy — a  creature  of  curls  and  ruffles  and 
perfumes!  Too  fine  to  do  aught  but  twirl  a  cane 
and  learn  new  dances.  And  for  such  a  manikin 
girls  go  distracted!" 

"His  ears  should  be  burning  this  morning  if  they 
have  half  the  blaze  of  your  eyes,  Jack.  You  snub 
Abner  Stornway,  and  all  the  other  Quaker  lads, 
as  too  meek  for  human  nature;  and  you  disdain 
the  Honorable  Richard  Cardiff,  whom  you  have 
never  seen,  simply  because  he — amuses  himself. 
Now,  truly,  Jack,  what  must  a  man  be  to  win  your 
approval,  and  your  'yes'?" 

"  He  must  be — only  a  man ! " 

"Only!" 

"He  must  be  brave.  He  must  do  right  as  he 
sees  it,  and  care  nothing  for  worldly  opinions.  He 
must  be  strong  to  protect  the  weak,  as  my  father 
is  strong.  He  must — 

"Oh,  I  see.  No  man  who  is  of  the  world  will 
ever  fill  that  list.  Like  your  father,  he  must  labor 
though  weighed  down  by  wealth;  and  while  you 
prune,  he  must  dig;  and  all  must  be  Quaker  gray. 
Pink  is  the  color  of  love,  Jack;  can  you  not  find 
room  for  one  little  strip  of  such  tint  along  the  gray 
margin?" 

Jaqcynthia  only  veiled  her  eyes  slightly  and 
smiled  at  the  fancy;  smiled  thoughtfully,  as  she 
rested  a  firm  chin  on  her  hand,  and  gazed  out  un 
seeing  across  the  beds  of  springing  green. 

"Who   knows?"    she    said,    after   a   little.     "It 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  19 

may  be  a  strip  of  crimson  when  it  does  come;  the 
pale  colors  mean  little  to  me." 

"Oh !  there  is  hope  for  you  yet,"  laughed  Dorothy. 
"You  have  more  fire  than  Susanne  when  you  are 
wakened — enough  to  wither  to  a  shred  the  wrong 
man,  or  glorify  forever  the  right  one!" 

"You  are  a  crazy  madcap,"  decided  her  friend, 
tolerantly. 

"Of  course  I  am!  And  crazy  folk  must  be 
humored.  Humor  my  fancy  now,  and  let  me  have 
those  keys  of  the  presses  and  chests.  We'll  have 
such  a  junketing — a  wild  masquerade.  I  truly  do 
need  cheering  up,  Jack.  The  one  man  is  coming 
home  this  week — is  already  in  Washington  on  his 
way  from  Jamaica;  and  father  read  me  a  lecture  a 
mile  long  about  him.  You  must  help  me  forget  it 
as  quickly  as  possible." 

"That  thy  father  will  have  to  repeat  it?" 

" He'll  get  tired  repeating  it  after  a  while;  that  is 
my  one  hope !  He  has  not  a  thing  against  Rob  Kirkley 
but  that  Rob  is  outside  of  father's  limit  of  deplor 
able  worldliness."  And  Dorothy  sighed  dismally. 

"Poor  neglected  maid! — with  only  a  dozen  other 
strings  to  thy  bow.  Here  are  the  keys ;  gather  the  toys 
necessary  for  consolation.  I  have  some  slight  busi 
ness  to  look  after,  and  then  I  will  be  with  thee  again." 

Dorothy  made  a  saucy  little  pout  at  the  word 
"business,"  and  left  the  room,  strumming  the 
guitar  and  singing: 

I'll  hang  my  harp  on  a  willow  tree! 
And  off  to  the  wars  again! 


20  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

that  Friend  Tabitha  Morgan,  who  was  housekeeper 
and  aunt  of  Jack,  might  know  what  disturbing 
element  had  found  entrance  to  their  peace. 

Jaqcynthia  sauntered  thoughtfully  out  into  the 
garden,  a  little  wrinkle  of  perplexity  between  her 
brows.  Dorothy  was  always  welcome,  but  at  this 
particular  time — 

She  caught  sight  of  an  elderly  negro  riding  slowly 
out  from  the  stables,  and  lifting  the  gray  skirt, 
despised  of  Dorothy,  she  ran,  fleet  as  a  deer,  through 
the  gate  and  down  the  lane. 

"Ezra!  Ezra!  Wait!"  she  called,  as  she  ran. 
And  the  old  man  halted  in  wonder  at  her  haste  and 
evident  stealthiness ;  for  she  was  running  with 
lowered  head  along  the  hedge. 

" Oh!  I  am  so  glad  thee  has  not  gone,"  she  gasped. 
"Dismount,  Ezra;  I  must  speak  with  thee,  and  it 
is  as  well  even  Aunt  Tabitha  knows  nothing  of  the 
reason ;  she  is  always  alert  and  anxious  when  father 
is  away." 

Ezra  slid  from  the  saddle  and  turned  his  horse 
deftly,  close  to  the  hedge. 

"  It  is  the  old  story,  Ezra,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 
"Dorothy  Starr  is  here,  and  I  may  not  be  able  to 
attend  to  the  strangers  when  they  come.  If  so, 
the  task  will  fall  to  thee,  and  it  is  better  that  thee 
go  nowhere  from  the  house  until  their  arrival. 
Send  one  of  the  younger  men  on  thy  errand,  and 
keep  watch  thyself.  The  strangers  are  not  quite 
the  ordinary  sort;  one  looks  like  a  gentleman,  and 
the  other  may  travel  as  his  servant.  With  father 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  21 

at  home,  it  would  be  very  simple.  But  Dorothy 
Starr  would  be  curious  over  such  an  arrival.  The 
need  is  great  for  extra  care ;  spies  have  been  watch 
ing  each  boat  along  the  Delaware  these  late  days." 

Ezra  nodded  his  comprehension  of  the  situation. 

' '  I  meet  them  at  either  pike — if  you  know  which  ?" 
he  hazarded. 

"But  I  do  not  know — not  even  if  they  come  by 
boat  or  on  horseback.  Only  that  they  come  from 
Maryland;  and  together  if  possible;  and  that  one 
of  them  could  easily  travel  as  a  gentleman  to  quiet 
suspicion.  On  their  arrival  we  can  judge  by  their 
appearance  what  means  will  be  best  to  adopt  for 
their  welfare.  Thee  must  watch  well  to-night." 

"I  watch,"  agreed  Ezra.  "Mistress  Tabitha 
not  know?" 

"We  dare  not  trust  her;  she  becomes  too  nervous 
when  such  things  occur  and  father  away.  Her 
very  anxiety  to  help  would  betray  her  to  Dorothy. 
No  one  will  be  told  but  you." 

Ezra  nodded  his  head,  though  looking  dubious, 
and  the  girl  sped  back  along  the  hedges  to  the 
garden  as  Dorothy  appeared  in  search  of  her — 
her  arms  full  of  gay  stuffs  from  long  ago  voyages 
over  seas,  and  a  rope  of  corals  dangling  from  her 
upraised  hand. 

"It  is  truly  flying  in  the  face  of  Providence, 
Jack,  to  keep  such  beauties  hidden  in  old  chests. 
Why  were  you  given  a  seafaring  uncle  and  a  courtly 
great-grandmother,  if  not  to  deck  yourself  in  their 
spoils?  Aunt  Tabitha  says  you  were  let  play  with 


22  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

the  corals  as  a  child;  but  I  mean  to  make  you  gay 
with  them  as  a  woman." 

"Thee  would  have  me  called  up  before  the  elders 
for  unseemly  decking  of  the  perishable  body?" 
queried  her  hostess,  with  assumed  alarm.  "And 
I  am  to  risk  all  that  so  that  thee  may  have  some 
one  to  deck  as  a  doll  of  the  world ! " 

Yet  when  the  sun  dropped  down  back  of  the 
western  hills,  and  Dorothy's  guitar  sent  softest 
melodies  over  the  garden,  it  was  no  gray-garbed 
Quakeress  who  sat  beside  her  and  listened;  but  an 
enchanting  figure  in  a  white  satin  gown  of  two 
generations  before.  The  treasured  corals  were  fes 
tooned  from  white  throat  to  belt,  and  one  of  the 
sea  chest  Roman  scarfs  draped  over  the  dark  hair. 

"You  look  like  a  picture  without  a  frame,  Jack. 
Only  much — much  better!  For  one  can  reach  out 
and  touch  your  hand,  and  one  knows  that  the  red 
of  your  lips  is  not  paint." 

Jack  tossed  aside  the  decorative  scarf  with  a 
shrug  of  petulance. 

"I  have  no  wish  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  picture, 
or  part  of  thy  little  stage  plays.  Why  not  take 
people  as  they  are?  The  playhouses  of  the  cities 
make  thee  wish  to  gild  us  all  and  frame  us." 

"Honest,  Jack,  would  you  not  like  to  see  a  real 
play  instead  of  reading  it  from  a  book? — or  a  real 
dance  with  a  real  gallant  for  a  partner?" 

"I The  play  might  be  very  well  for  once, 

but- 

"But  the  dance  you  will  not  acknowledge  yet. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  23 

Oh,  Jack,  Jack!  And  you  were  so  surely  made  for 
dancing.  Come ! ' ' 

The  guitar  was  tossed  aside  as  she  hummed  a 
dancing  air,  and  circled  Jack  with  her  arms,  drag 
ging  her  gayly  into  step,  and  whirling  across  the 
polished  floor  of  the  living  room,  overturning  Aunt 
Tabitha's  workbasket,  only  to  be  stopped  midway 
in  a  mad  gallop  by  an  exclamation  from  that  horri 
fied  lady  in  the  doorway. 

"This  unseemliness  of  demeanor  I  have  no  time 
at  present  to  reprove,"  she  stated,  in  reply  to 
Dorothy  Starr's  rather  flustered  explanation.  "  But 
Jaqcynthia  has  other  duties  than  dancing.  A 
traveler  from  a  distance  is  waiting  at  the  garden 
gate  to  see  Noah  concerning  horses  for  himself  and 
servant — one  they  have  ridden  has  gone  lame,  and 
as  the  horses  are  thy  care  in  the  absence  of  thy 
father,  thee  had  better  see  the  man.  He  is  waiting 
out  there  with  Ezra." 

"A  traveler  from  a  distance!  And  a  young 
man!"  whispered  Dorothy,  gleefully  peering  through 
the  window  to  catch  further  glimpse  of  the  stranger. 
"Oh,  Jack!  he  is  the  answer  to  my  prayer.  Keep 
him  for  supper!" 

The  color  won  by  the  dance  slowly  receded 
from  Jack's  cheeks  as  she  glanced  from  her  aunt 
to  the  girl,  as  though  measuring  chances — and 
obstacles. 

"Is  he — is  he  a  gentleman?"  she  asked,  after  a 
moment  of  indecision;  and  Dorothy  nodded  assent 
vigorously,  and  beckoned  her  to  her  own  coign  of 


24  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

vantage;  but  Jack  shook  her  head  and  moved 
toward  the  door. 

"I  shall  speak  with  him  concerning  the  horse," 
she  said,  quietly.  "  But  if  he  wishes  especially  to 
see  my  father  he  must  wait  over  for  his  return.  If 
so,  we  will  have  a  guest,  Aunt  Tabitha.  Thee 
always  welcomes  a  new  one  at  the  table." 

"  But— a  young  man — and  thy  father  from  home ! " 

"  It  has  happened  before.  Since  he  seems  a  gen 
tleman,  if  he  needs  to  stop  over  we  must,  at  least, 
ask  him." 

The  little  exchange  of  words  had  steadied  her 
voice,  fluttering  a  trifle  at  first — perhaps  from  the 
dance.  It  steadied  her  hand  as  she  opened  the 
door  and  passed  along  the  garden  path  to  the  gate. 

The  thought  of  the  stranger,  and  his  probable 
business  there,  drove  from  her  mind  her  own  unusual 
attire,  and  she  dragged  the  white  satin  of  her 
grandmother,  unnoticed  and  forgotten,  over  the 
white  flagstones  of  the  paving. 

But  not  unnoticed  by  the  stranger  at  the  gate! 
His  servant,  watched  dubiously  by  Ezra,  looked 
nervous  and  frightened ;  the  horses  appeared  fagged, 
and  the  master  impatient.  But  at  the  swish  of 
satin  under  the  cedars  he  turned  quickly,  and  the 
woman  he  saw  there  drove  both  impatience  and 
weariness  from  his  eyes.  For  an  instant  he  stared — 
incredulous. 

"This  is  never  'my  Quaker  maid'!"  was  the 
swift  certainty  touching  his  thoughts. 

But  the  next  instant,  as  he  swept  the  pine  needles 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  25 

with  his  hat,  and  bowed  low,  and  heard  her  words, 
he  was  undeceived. 

"Thee  has  ridden  from  the  South?"  she  asked, 
guardedly. 

"Yes,  madam;  I— 

"It  is  not  so  wise  to  come  by  land;  the  risk  is 
greater,"  she  said,  reprovingly.  "I  expected  thee 
by  nightfall.  My  father  has  been  called  away  for 
three  days,  and  left  the  charge  of  thee  and  thy  com 
panion  in  my  hands.  I  have  a  guest  who  has  seen 
thy  arrival,  and  concealment  is  out  of  the  question. 
It  is  best  that  thee  enter  the  house  as  a  visitor  who 
waits  my  father's  return  for  some  business  project. 
Only  Ezra  and  myself  will  know  who  is  entertained 
here;  he  will  look  after  the  animals — and  this  man, 
in  case  of  pursuit." 

"Oh-h!  in  case  of  pursuit,"  he  repeated  in  auto 
matic  fashion,  regarding  her  with  questioning 
directness.  "And  in  case  of  pursuit,  what  would 
happen  if  I  were  found  here?" 

"They  will  not  find  thee,"  she  said,  with  a  slight, 
reassuring  smile,  meeting  his  eyes  for  the  first  time, 
and  a  trifle  confused  by  the  intent  regard  bent  upon 
her,  which  caused  her  also  to  remember  at  the  same 
moment  her  unusual  attire.  "Ezra,  thee  knows 
what  to  do  with  the  animals;  cover  their  feet  and 
lead  them  by  the  creek  to  the  far  pastures.  Water 
is  best  to  drown  the  scent  for  trailers,"  she  added, 
casually,  to  the  man  beside  her.  "  Please  to  come  in." 

"Fo'  Gord's  sake,  Mahs  Dick!"  whispered  the 
colored  boy,  imploringly. 


26  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

For  one  instant  the  man  hesitated  and  glanced  at 
the  frightened  boy ;  then  back  over  the  road  he  had 
come,  and  then  down  at  the  wonderful  girl  who  had 
expected  him,  who  promised  that  no  pursuers  should 
find  him — who  smiled  at  him  pitifully  with  the  most 
wonderful  eyes  he  had  ever  seen,  and — who  waited 
for  him  to  walk  beside  her. 

The  last  clause  was  the  final  temptation;  and  he 
walked  through  the  gate  with  the  reckless  deter 
mination  that  one  hour  in  Eden  should  be  his,  let 
half  a  county  pursue. 

*We  can  decide  concerning  the  horses  and  thy 
journey  when  we  have  chance  to  speak  alone,"  she 
remarked,  as  his  feet  kept  pace  with  hers,  slowly 
as  possible.  "If  it  is  necessary  to  go  on  to-night 
we  will  arrange  it  after  the  others  are  asleep.  But 
in  the  meantime  I  must  introduce  thee;  and  an 
assumed  name  and  business  were  wise." 

"You  are  a  guardian  angel  to  plan  thus  for  my 
safety,"  he  protested,  keeping  hidden,  as  best  he 
could,  the  amazement  her  every  sentence  increased. 

"I  could  truthfully  say  I  am  going  north  on— 
on  a  matter  of  personal  business;  that  my  horse 
has  gone  lame,  and  that  I  hope  to  buy  another  from 
your  father.  As  to  the  name,  if  I  am  to  assume 
one  at  your  bidding,  will  you  be  so  amiable  as  to 
suggest  one?" 

"7f  Oh!"  she  began  deprecatingly ;  and  then 
two  roguish  eyes  at  a  lattice  put  a  wild  thought  in 
her  mind  with  which  to  tempt  the  fates. 

The  colored  boy  had  said  "Master  Dick."     Why 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  27 

not  for  once  play  a  trick  on  Dorothy,  who  was  so 
full  of  tricks  for  other  people?  "Master  Dick"! 

Why  not  Master  Dick  Cardiff — the  beau,  the 
dandy,  the  heart-breaker  whom  Dorothy  longed 
to  meet?  It  would  be  only  for  a  few  hours — and 
who  would  ever  know?  She  glanced  again  at  the 
handsome  fellow  beside  her;  he  was  really  more 
than  handsome — he  had  the  subtle  air  of  quality. 
It  would  certainly  serve. 

The  fancy  flashed  like  lightning  through  her 
brain  as  Dorothy  nodded  and  grimaced,  and  patted 
her  hands  mischievously  between  the  half-opened 
lattice.  But  that  the  stranger  beside  her  was  so 
occupied  with  his  hostess,  he  must  have  seen  that 
pantomime,  and  covered  Jack  with  confusion. 
Dorothy  should  pay  for  it!  Since  she  was  so  in 
love  with  tricks  and  play-acting  scenes,  she  should 
have  one! 

"You  come  from  the  South,"  she  said,  thought 
fully,  as  they  reached  the  steps — "from  Maryland?" 

"You  guess  rightly,  madam."  He  stared  at  her 
in  mute  question. 

"I  know  of  but  one  name  there  likely  to  fit  thy 
age  and — and  general  appearance.  It  is  a  name 
outside  of  our  world  and  will  hurt  no  one  if  thee 
should  use  it  for  a  day.  It  is  that  of  the  Honorable 
Richard  Cardiff — he  is  the  owner  of  a  great  planta 
tion  there  toward  the  east.  My  aunt  is  coming — 
will  the  name  answer?" 

"Extremely  well,"  assented  the  stranger,  after 
an  incredulous  stare.  "I  chance  to  know  the 


28  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

plantation  you  mention,  and  will  endeavor  not  to 
disgrace  the  name  you  have  bestowed  upon  me." 

Jack  shrugged  her  shoulders  slightly;  she  had 
little  interest  in  guarding  Beau  Cardiff's  name. 

Her  cheeks  flushed  slightly  at  the  daring  thing 
she  was  about  to  do.  And  the  curious,  intent  gaze 
of  the  stranger,  when  she  chanced  to  lift  her  eyes 
toward  him,  in  no  way  lessened  her  color.  How 
could  she  ever  explain — should  occasion  arise — 
that  she  was  using  his  misfortune  for  a  trick  on  a 
mischievous  girl? 

A  moment  of  fear  touched  her  as  she  thought  of 
what  Noah  Marquand  would  say  at  this  use  of  the 
trust  he  had  left  to  her ;  but  it  was  too  late  to  repent. 
Aunt  Tabitha  was  coming  slowly  toward  them 
along  the  veranda;  and  Dorothy,  all  ears  and  eyes 
behind  the  lattice,  almost  cried  aloud  in  her  aston 
ishment  as  the  very  handsomest  man  she  had  ever 
seen  bowed  low  before  Aunt  Tabitha  Morgan,  and 
was  introduced  as  Mr.  Richard  Cardiff,  of  Mary 
land! 

"Oh!  oh!  oh!"  she  gasped,  dismally.  "What 
luck!  what  luck!  The  greatest  catch  of  the  season, 
and  here  I  am  in  this  old  lutestring  dress,  when  I 
might  as  well  have  brought  my  silk  of  the  rosebud 
pattern!" 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  29 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  colored  boy  followed  Ezra  reluctantly  to  the 
barns ;  looking  back  over  his  shoulder  with  troubled 
glances  toward  the  two  figures  moving  up  the  path 
from  the  cedars.  He  was  clearly  less  at  ease  than 
the  white  man,  and  was  also  acutely  conscious  that 
Ezra  was  giving  them  both  curiously  critical  obser^ 
vation. 

"I  reckon  yo'  all  ain't  touchen'  ground  enough 
for  houn'  dogs  to  trail  after,"  observed  Ezra,  casu 
ally.  "If  so  be,  I'll  look  up  another  pair  of  shoes 
for  yeh.  My  boy  William's  shoes  jest  about  fit  you." 

"Houn'  dogs —  good  Lord!"  gasped  the  Mary- 
lander,  stopping  short,  and  eyeing  Ezra  with  horror. 
"Yo'  don't  allow  they'll  trail  me  an'  Mahs  Dick 
with  houn'  dogs?" 

"They  certainly  did  with  the  last  men  who  got 
ovah  the  line,  though  they  got  away  all  right,"  he 
added,  as  he  noticed  a  gray  pallor  replacing  the 
mahogany  tint  of  the  stranger's  face.  "Oh!  yes, 
they  got  away  all  right.  See  that  fringe  of  elder 
bushes  on  yon  side  the  mill  dam  ovah  thah?  See 
where  them  topply  ones  touch  the  wateh?  It  was 
some  cold  then — frosty  nights.  But  them  men 
stood  thah  a  whole  day  an'  part  o'  the  night,  while 
the  sheriff  an'  his  men  pranced  around  this  place 
with  them  bloodhoun's,  an'  nevah  got  the  scent 
once!" 


30  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"An' — an'  yo'  all  say  as  how  they  got  away, 
after  all?" 

"Yes,  indeedy! — cut  sticks  fo'  Yo'k  State  soon 
as  we  let  'em  go.  We  hauled  them  twenty  mile 
befo'  we  let  them  put  foot  to  the  groun'.  One  o' 
them  boys  nigh  about  smothered  that  time  under 
the  grain  sacks  we  piled  on  top  o'  them." 

"Good  Lord!"  gasped  the  other,  in  a  dwindling 
whisper  of  terror,  "I  done  warn  him  not  to  lay 
over.  I  done  tole  him  we  ought  to  keep  a-moven'. 
Then  that  fine  quality  lady  come  a-bidden'  him 
welcome — an'  heah  we  is!" 

"We  easy  keep  yeh  out  o'  sight,  all  right,"  said 
Erza,  reassuringly,  as  he  pushed  some  grain  sacks 
from  against  a  wall  in  the  granary  and  lifted  a 
board,  showing  a  boxlike  space  between  the  beams. 
"This  heah  floor  is  double;  so  is  the  ice-house  wall; 
an'  Miss  Jack  will  look  aftah  the  othah  man  jest 
as  safe!" 

"I — I  think  I'd  like  mighty  well  to  get  to  the 
house  an'  see  the  othah  man — Mahs  Dick,"  re 
marked  the  colored  boy,  hesitatingly.  "I — I  got 
his  portmanteau  in  charge,  an'  he  sure  want  that!" 

"  Penn  can  tote  it  in  to  him.     Heah ! — you  Penn ! " 

A  little  darkey  slid  around  the  corner  and  reached 
for  the  portmanteau,  but  the  Marylander  was 
ahead  of  him. 

"I  don't  dar  let  this  go  out  of  my  sight  till  it's 
safe  in  Mahs  Dick's  hands,"  he  insisted.  "Yo' 
all  go  ahead  an'  show  me  the  way.  Mahs  Dick 
ain't  nevah  used  to  fix  for  dinner  'thout  me." 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  31 

Ezra  stared,  and  his  mouth  widened  in  a  doubt 
ful  grin. 

"Yo'  is  certainly  slick,"  he  observed.  "But 
out  heah  at  the  barns  is  whah  yd1  need  to  be  if 
trouble  comes.  Miss  Jack  tole  me  plain  to  look 
out  for  yo'  all  an'  the  hosses.  How  I  gwine  look 
after  yeh  an'  yo'  all  in  the  big  house?" 

"Oh,  I  come  back  heah  quick  as  I'm  let,"  prom 
ised  the  other  promptly.  "Yo'  Mistess  Jack  boss 
yo'  all  an'  this  heah  place,  but  /  got  to  take  my 
orders  from  my  Mahs  Dick  fo'  the  time  beinV 

"Humph!"  grunted  Ezra,  ironically.  "Yo'  suah 
is  a  high  flyer,  Mistah  Man!  But  on  this  heah 
place  you'll  find  Miss  Jack  bosses  yo'  an'  yo'  Mahs 
Dick,  too!  Yes,  sah — both  of  yeh!" 

The  stranger  made  no  reply;  only  motioned  the 
little  darky  to  show  him  the  way.  Ezra  surveyed 
his  retreating  form  quizzically. 

"Yo'  flies  higher  than  any  I've  seen  ride  this 
pike  fo'  many  a  day,"  he  repeated.  "But  yo' 
comes  the  same  way,  and  yo'  goes  the  same  way. 
An'  the  sooner  yeh  learn  the  Ian'  mark,  the  better  for 
yo'  both.  Nevah  fixes  fo'  dinner  'thout  help.  Huh!" 
****** 

When  the  Honorable  Richard  Cardiff  was  ushered 
into  a  great,  airy  bedchamber  facing  the  south,  he 
found  the  colored  boy  waiting,  gray  with  terror. 

"Why,  Nat!" 

But  Nat  held  up  his  hand  warningly,  and  moved 
to  the  door,  peering  down  the  hall  after  the  disap 
pearing  maid. 


32  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"Be  keerful  what  yeh  say,  sah!"  he  whispered, 
fearfully.  "We're  in  a  tight  place — a  mighty 
sight  wuss  than  yo'  know.  Every  wall  heah  is 
double,  an'  every  floor  is  twins.  The  sheriff  raids 
it  regular  fo'  some  sort  o'  highwayman  or  robbers, 

on» " 

evil 

"You're  crazy,  Nat!  This  thing  has  turned 
your  head." 

"  Turned  my  head !  Good  Lord !  I've  done  heard 
enough  in  ten  minutes  to  turn  King  Solomon's 
head — /  have!  How'd  yo'  like  to  be  stood  in  a 
mill  dam  a  day  an'  a  night  with  only  yo'  head  above 
watah — and  it  icy? — an'  houn  dogs  prancen  aroun' 
in  plain  sight  a-hunten'  yo'  trail? — an'  the  sheriff— 

"What  gibberish!" 

"An'  grain  sacks  piled  on  top  o'  yo' — full  o' 
grain! — twenty  miles  in  a  wagon!"  shrilled  Nat,  in 
terror.  "An*  that  ole  niggah  says  right  out  plain 
— an'  a  chucklen'! — that  yo  may  be  my  boss,  but 
his  young  Miss  Jack  boss  us  both  till  we  get  out  o' 
heah." 

'  That's  not  so  unlikely,  either,"  remarked  Mr. 
Cardiff,  with  a  curious  smile.  But  Nat  was  not  to 
be  reassured  thus. 

"I  tell  yo'  solemn,  Mahs  Dick,  we're  in  a  tight 
place,"  he  repeated,  emphatically.  "This  heah 
house  is — is  a  sure  enough  hiden'  place  fo'  highway 
robbers  and  sich  like;  an'  they've  jest  mistook  us 
fo'  some  o'  their  gang!  Good  Lord!  /  felt  shaky 
the  minute  that  lady  walked  down  thah  so  calm 
an'  sweet,  an'  tells  yo'  she's  been  expecten'  yo'. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  33 

Expecten'  yo' !  How  she  know  yo'  boun'  fo'  heah 
at  all  when  yo'  nevah  know  it  yo'  own  self?  She's 
a  waiten'  fo'  yeh!  Huh!  Yo'  certainly  gwine  to 
fin'  it's  bad  luck  a-waiten'  fo  yo'  at  that  gate.  I's 
dead  scared  that  ole  niggah  ask  me  yo'  name,  an' 
he's  boun'  to." 

"Tell  him  'Richard  Cardiff.'  " 

"Fo'  Gord's  sake,  Mahs  Dick!  Yo'  ain't  nevah 
done  took  that  risk!  Not  till  yo'  heah  if — if  yo' 
killed  yo'  man  or  not!" 

"The  risk  is  'done  took,'  Nat,"  said  the  other, 
with  a  shrug.  "  We  may  have  to  make  a  run  to  get  out 
of  it ;  so  hold  yourself  ready.  But  for  a  few  hours, 
at  least,  I  stop  over  as  a  guest  of  the  Marquand 
family." 

"Family!"  groaned  Nat,  as  he  picked  up  the 
coat  of  the  Honorable  Richard  Cardiff,  and  fell  to 
brushing  it  with  aggressive  digs  of  the  brush. 
*'  Family!  The  whole  enduren'  passel  o'  that  family 
am  jest  one  lady  in  a  ghostly  white  dress.  I  wish 
to  the  good  Lord  Mahs  Kirkley's  hoss  had  tumbled 
him  in  a  ditch  afore  he  evah  had  a  chance  to  go 
tellen'  yeh  ary  word  o'  Quaker  gal  beauties  along 
this  heah  road — an'  yo'  this  minute  in  trouble 
a-plenty  along  o'  ladies'  doen's!" 

"Nat!" 

"I — I  beg  yo'  pahden,  Mahs  Dick!"  stammered 
Nat,  as  the  eyes  of  the  other  flashed  on  him  like 
blue  lightning  for  an  instant.  "I's  a  plumb  scared 
niggah — I  is!  I's  scared  enough  while  we  was 
a-moven';  but  I's  dead  scared  now  yo'  stop  in  yo' 


34  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

tracks,  and  tell  folks  yo'  Dick  Cardiff.  They'll 
track  yo'  suah  as  death,  Mahs  Dick! — an'  then  what 
use  maken'  the  run  we  made?  If  the  worst  does 
happen  yo'  taken'  to  the  road  gwine  convict  yo' 
suah.  It's  the  worst  break  yo'  evah  did  make, 
'ceptin'  only  yo'  stoppen'  ovah  heah  without  rhyme 
or  reason!" 

"Now  that  you've  eased  your  mind,  Nat,  you 
might  give  some  attention  to  the  boots,"  remarked 
Mr.  Cardiff,  as  he  adjusted  his  cravat  with  scrupu 
lous  care.  And  Nat,  with  a  helpless  sigh  of  resigna 
tion,  bent  to  the  work. 

No  more  words  were  exchanged  between  them; 
but  when  the  maid  came  to  announce  tea,  Nathan 
promptly  repacked  the  portmanteau,  preparatory 
to  flight,  and  as  he  crossed  the  wide  veranda  on  his 
way  back  to  Ezra  he  stopped  under  the  shadows  of 
a  honeysuckle  vine  and  peered  anxiously  through 
a  window  where  he  heard  voices  and  laughter. 

The  guests  of  Jaqcynthia  were  gathered  about 
the  tea  table,  and  Mr.  Cardiff  was  proving  the  most 
entertaining  of  gentlemen.  Dorothy  Starr  was 
fairly  bubbling  over  with  delighted  vivacity,  and 
Aunt  Tabitha  was  smiling  sympathetically  at  some 
gay  recital  of  his. 

The  young  hostess  was  the  only  one  of  the  group 
whose  interest  in  the  stranger  had  an  alert,  anxious 
tendency;  in  fact,  her  usual  serenity  had  given  way 
to  a  sort  of  tremulous  uncertainty  as  the  moments 
passed  and  she  saw  the  others  held  by  the  charm  of 
a  manner  new  and  strange  to  her  experience. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  35 

His  discourse  was,  in  the  main,  directed  to  Aunt 
Tabitha  and  the  ever-responsive  Dorothy;  yet  ever 
and  again  his  eyes  would  turn  to  Jaqcynthia  in  a 
penetrating  glance  of  unspoken  confidence,  strangely 
disquieting  to  that  usually  serene  person. 

She  was  beginning  to  anxiously  regret  having 
entered  upon  this  foolish  escapade — the  little  trick 
of  the  name  with  which  to  cheat  Dorothy  for  one 
little  evening. 

And  how  gayly  he  accepted  the  situation!  How 
care-free  and  debonair  his  manner  as  he  assumed 
the  name  and  rank  of  the  most  dashing  beau  of 
two  cities! 

There  were  moments  when  she  was  forced  into 
admiration  of  his  tact  as  he  avoided  most  skillfully 
all  but  general  topics — far  removed  from  his  jour 
ney,  its  destination,  and  its  delays. 

But  there  were  other  moments,  when  he  turned 
his  eyes  upon  her  in  that  quietly  smiling  way,  that 
she  felt  a  touch  of  fear,  as  though  she  had  let  herself 
be  drawn  into  the  outer  circle  of  some  whirlpool 
whose  force  or  depth  she  could  not  gauge. 

Nathan,  under  the  shadow  of  the  honeysuckle 
vine,  shook  his  head  distrustfully  as  he  noted  those 
glances  of  his  master. 

"Humph! — petticoats!  I  reckon  that  settles  it," 
he  muttered,  as  he  slipped  quietly  down  the  steps. 
"I  reckon  the  sheriff  cotch  us  right  heah  if  he's  so 
minded !  By  the  signs  o'  things  we're  planted  right 
heah  fo'  a  week." 

"The  signs  o'  things"  did  not  escape  the  astute 


36  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

Dorothy,  as  she  by  chance  caught  one  of  those 
strangely  confidential,  yet  deferential,  glances  from 
Mr.  Cardiff  to  Jaqcynthia.  Elated  as  she  would 
have  been  over  the  idea  of  Beau  Cardiff  at  her  own 
chariot  wheels,  yet  her  dream  of  a  romance  for  Jack 
was  uppermost  in  her  mind — and  she  caught  de 
lightedly  at  the  luck  the  fates  had  sent. 

Yet  she  could  not  but  wonder  that  her  friend  was 
so  strangely  unresponsive  to  the  brilliancy  of  the 
stranger ;  not  the  silent  unresponsiveness  of  Quakerish 
repose,  but  a  silence  palpitating  with  feeling,  and 
tinged  at  times  by  faint  flushes  creeping  upward 
from  the  white  throat. 

Dorothy  observed  that  the  flushes  invariably  fol 
lowed  those  glances  of  Mr.  Cardiff,  and  was  jubilant 
that  Jack,  though  she  might  maintain  her  strange 
reserve,  could  not  at  least  feign  indifference  to  the 
man  she  had  stated  her  absolute  disapproval  of  so 
few  hours  ago. 

The  early  dusk  had  shown  signs  of  settling  over 
the  levels,  and  Aunt  Tabitha  was  lighting  the  can 
dles  on  the  tea  table,  when  the  sound  of  a  galloping 
horse  came  nearer  and  nearer.  Mr.  Cardiff  met 
Jaqcynthia's  eyes  with  a  slight,  reassuring  smile,  as 
he  arose  quickly  from  the  table. 

"A  runaway?"  he  asked,  solicitously,  and  turned 
toward  the  window.  But  Dorothy,  who  was  there 
first,  uttered  a  little  cry  of  surprised  delight. 

"It's  Rob!  Rob  Kirkley!  And  his  horse  cov 
ered  with  foam!  How  he  must  have  ridden!  Is  it 
a  runaway  ?  Yes — no ' ' 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  37 

"  The  animal  does  look  a  trifle  fractious,"  observed 
Mr.  Cardiff.  "  Pardon  me — I  may  fte  of  assistance." 

Jack  rose  slightly,  but  sank  back  into  her  chair. 
He  had  passed  her  before  she  could  signify  a  remon 
strance. 

Robinson  Kirkley!  Was  it  not  likely  that  he 
would  know  the  real  Cardiff?  The  fear  of  it  turned 
her  half  sick  with  dread  of  the  result  of  her  own  mad 
folly. 

And  while  Dorothy  expressed  amaze  and  delight, 
while  Aunt  Tabitha  ordered  another  cup  and  plat 
ter  and  a  fresh  brewing  of  tea,  Jaqcynthia  Marquand 
sat,  rigid  and  wordless,  waiting  for  the  explosion. 

But  none  came.  Mr.  Kirkley  put  out  one  hand 
impulsively  as  Mr.  Cardiff  approached,  but  the  latter 
avoided  it  deftly  and  caught  instead  the  restive 
horse  by  the  head. 

" Rob!  you  never  set  eyes  on  me  before!"  he  said, 
quickly.  "Here  is  the  man  for  your  nag.  Prepare 
to  hear  me  presented  as  Dick  Cardiff." 

"  By  the  Lord  Harry!  you  deserve  to  be  caught!" 
muttered  Kirkley  between  his  teeth.  "What  the 
devil  do  you  mean?" 

"I  scarcely  know.  You  may  help  me  discover. 
'Sh-h!  Here's  the  man!" 

As  Mr.  Kirkley  dismounted,  he  and  Mr.  Cardiff 
bowed  ceremoniously,  and  the  man  from  the  stables 
led  the  dripping  horse  away  as  Dorothy  ran  down 
the  veranda  steps. 

"Oh,  Rob!  Mr.  Robinson  Kirkley,  I  should  say. 
We  thought  your  horse  was  making  you  trouble; 


o 


8  MY  QUAKER  MAID 


was  it?  This  is  Mr.  Cardiff,  and  we  are  glad  to 
welcome  you  home  again — wanderer!" 

And  she  spread  her  skirts  in  an  exaggerated  cour 
tesy,  to  which  the  new  arrival  responded  with  his 
best  bow. 

"My  horse  outdid  himself  because  he  carried  me 
to  see  you,"  he  said,  smilingly.  "He  was  well-nigh 
unmanageable,  and  Mr.  Cardiff  did  me  a  service." 

Through  the  window,  Jack  saw  the  two  men 
salute  each  other  as  strangers  and  breathed  a  sigh 
of  relief.  The  color  had  surged  again  into  her 
cheeks  when  Rob  Kirkley  bent  over  her  hand  and 
assured  Aunt  Tabitha  how  pleased  he  was  to  be  made 
welcome  again  to  The  Cedars. 

"  The  fact  is,  I  let  my  horse  cover  the  ground  with 
considerable  haste  to  bring  you  a  bit  of  rather 
unpleasant  news,"  he  said,  as  he  accepted  tea  and 
cakes  from  Aunt  Tabitha.  "News  connected  with 
your  Baltimore  relative,  Mrs.  Peter  Mintern." 

"Susanne?"  queried  Jack,  while  Mr.  Cardiff 
glanced  over  the  edge  of  his  tea  cup  with  suddenly 
narrowing  eyes  at  Mr.  Kirkley. 

The  latter  drew  a  folded  paper,  odorous  of  the 
press,  from  his  pocket 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "a  rather  sensational  affair; 
attempted  kidnaping  of  that  fair  lady  at  their  plan 
tation  of  Bayside,  two  nights  ago.  The  village 
paper  received  an  account  of  it  by  telegraph,  and 
the  sheriff's  man  was  having  offers  of  reward  printed 
as  I  came  past;  by  to-morrow  morning  every  road 
crossing  the  State  line  will  be  decorated  with  offers 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  39 

for  the  apprehension  of  a  gentleman  who  has  out 
ridden  the  Maryland  officers." 

Aunt  Tabitha,  to  whom  he  had  given  the  paper, 
adjusted  her  glasses  and  uttered  a  cry  of  dismay. 

"Perhaps  it  is  murder!  Jaqcynthia,  does  thee 
see  this  awful  thing?  It  says  the  reward  for  the 
murderer  is  five  hundred  dollars!" 

Mr.  Cardiff  replaced  the  pretty  cup  from  which  he 
had  been  drinking,  carefully,  beside  his  plate. 

"  The — murderer? "  he  said,  while  Dorothy  jumped 
from  her  chair  and  circled  the  table  the  better  to 
read  over  Tabitha's  shoulder. 

"  Susanne — murdered ! " 

"No,  no,  Jack!  It  is  a  man  who  is  shot — see!" 
And  Dorothy  held  the  paper,  that  all  might  read. 
"Peter  Mintern  offers  five  hundred  dollars  reward 
for  the  apprehension  of  the  man  who  attempted  the 
kidnaping  of  Mrs.  Mintern,  from  their  estate  at 
Bayside,  and  who  shot  the  gallant  Captain  Gleason, 
of  the  yacht  Rover,  who  rescued  the  lady  from  the 
midnight  marauder.  Mrs.  Mintern  is  too  much  pros 
trated  by  the  shock  to  describe  the  miscreant,  but 
it  is  hoped  that  the  captain  will  soon  recover  suffi 
ciently  to  do  so." 

"  Kidnaped!  And  the  gallant  Gleason  shot  in  her 
defense!"  said  Mr.  Cardiff,  in  blank  amaze.  "Well 
—by  all  the — hem ! — these  seem  perilous  times  when 
such  daring  villains  are  abroad !  And — you  mention 
that  this  lady  is  known  to  you — a  relative?" 

"Mrs. 'Susanne  Mintern  is  a  relative  of  my  father," 
said  Jack,  with  careful  directness,  as  she  recalled 


40  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

the  converse  of  Dorothy  a  few  hours  ago ;  and  at  the 
same  moment  that  little  maid  also  remembered  that 
Richard  Cardiff  was  by  no  means  excluded  from  the 
family  connection! 

"  How  strange  that  you  should  only  just  discover 
that  you  are  all  related  after  a  fashion,  since  you  are 
a  nephew — or  is  it  a  grandnephew? — of  Peter  Min- 
tern!  You — Why,  you  must  know  the  man  who 
was  shot?" 

Jack  glanced  at  him  in  dismay — appalled  at  the 
horrible  net  she  had  spread  for  the  feet  of  the 
stranger.  How — how  could  he  extricate  himself? 

But  he  returned  her  swift  glance  with  a  smile  of 
reassurance. 

"Yes;  I  have  met  him  often.  He  has  been  visit 
ing  with  other  guests  at  Bayside  for  the  past  two 
weeks.  I  thought  the  party  had  broken  up." 

"  This  has  made  the  most  romantic  ending  possible 
for  the  season."  And  Dorothy  sighed  and  grimaced. 
"What  good  fortune  Mrs.  Susanne  does  have!" 

"Dorothy  Starr!     I  am  amazed  that 

"Yes — yes — I  know,  Friend  Tabitha.  You  are 
more  than  amazed — you  are  scandalized,  and 
ashamed  of  me.  But  after  being  the  belle  of  an 
entire  winter,  to  be  kidnaped  in  the  spring,  what 
luck  for  a  woman !  It  is  enough  to  make  her  a  belle 
for  the  rest  of  her  life!" 

"Are  you  willing  to  be  kidnaped  in  order  to  per 
petuate  your  own  belleship  indefinitely?"  asked 
Rob  Kirkley,  aside.  "And  are  you  willing  to  for 
give  the  man  who  does  it?" 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  41 

"It  is  unseemly  to  speak  so  of  any  man's  wife!" 
insisted  Tabitha,  firmly.  "I  beg  thee  does  not 
apply  the  term  of  'belle'  to  Jack's  cousin." 

"Your — cousin?"  And  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Cardiff 
lingered  wonderingly  on  Jack's  perplexed  face. 

"  Does  that  seem  so  improbable  to  you  city  quality 
folk?"  demanded  Dorothy.  "Even  we  of  the 
fields  do  attend  an  Assembly  sometimes." 

"  Any  assembly  would  be  graced  the  more  by  your 
presence  there,"  he  said,  with  careless  courtesy. 
"But — Mrs.  Mintern  does  seem — a  world  apart 
from — you!" 

The  latter  part  of  the  speech  was  to  Jack,  and 
again  that  slight  little  flush  arose  to  her  face,  and 
receded,  leaving  it  a  trifle  paler. 

Rob  Kirkley  looked  up  sharply  at  the  man's  tone, 
and  then,  glancing  at  Jack's  face,  he  comprehended 
somewhat  the  cause  of  things  otherwise  puzzling. 

"You  say  there  is  no  description  of  the  Bayside 
miscreant?"  asked  Mr.  Cardiff,  casually. 

"None — as  yet,"  returned  Mr.  Kirkley,  politely. 
"But  the  offers  of  reward  will  circle  the  country — 
every  stranger  will  be  watched  by  the  authorities." 

"So  if  the  man  is  in  hiding  he  had  better  remain 
hidden,"  suggested  Mr.  Cardiff. 

"On  the  contrary,"  and  Rob  Kirkley  met  the 
other's  eyes  squarely,  "if  he  cares  for  his  safety,  I 
should  say  for  him  to  ride  as  fast  and  as  far  as  he 
could — and  to  ride  ahead  of  those  offers  of  reward, 
and  not  to  risk  passing  one." 

"One  never  knows,"  remarked  Mr.  Cardiff.     "If 


42  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

it  is  the  fellow's  lucky  day  he'll  clear  all  fences  and  if 
it  isn't  he'll  ride  to  lose,  no  matter  when  he  starts." 

"We  should  rather  plan  how  the  wretch  could  be 
caught — not  how  he  should  escape,"  remarked 
Tabitha,  severely. 

"I  should  think,"  said  Dorothy,  "that  Susanne 
Mintern  could  give  some  sort  of  description  of  the 
man — and  surely  Captain  Gleason  could." 

"  The  lady  is  prostrated,  the  gentleman  wounded," 
reminded  Rob,  who  was  regarding  Mr.  Cardiff  with 
sharp  attention. 

"Ah!  and  neither  of  them  able  to  speak?"  said 
that  gentleman.  "  It  certainly  is  a  complicated 
case.  If  I  thought  I  could  be  of  assistance  to  the 
family  by  going  down  there,  I  wonder  if  I  could  ride 
it  in  a  day?" 

Rob  Kirkley  looked  at  him  a  moment  before 
making  reply.  "I  have  known  it  to  be  made  in 
eighteen  hours,"  he  said,  coolly.  "  But  it  depends 
on  your  horseflesh,  and  how  well  you  know  the  roads 
— especially  the  short  cuts." 

"Exactly!"  assented  Mr.  Cardiff,  thoughtfully. 
"And  as  I  am  not  acquainted  with  the  short  cuts, 
the  railway  would  be  the  better  plan.  Yet  they 
will  probably  secure  their  man  before  I  could  reach 
the  plantation  to  start  on  the  trail." 

"They  probably  will  have  done  so,"  agreed  Mr. 
Kirkley,  politely.  "And  when  Mrs.  Mintern  is  able 
to  describe  the  fellow  his  case  will  be  settled,  unless 
he  gets  out  of  the  country  at  once.  That  reward 
will  inspire  lagging  justice." 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  43 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Jack  listened,  fascinated  but  silent,  as  those  plans 
concerning  that  unknown  fugitive  were  discussed 
around  her.  All  her  troubled  thoughts  were  held 
by  that  other  fugitive  opposite  her,  smiling  and 
apparently  careless;  yet  she  knew  how  greatly  his 
escape  might  be  hindered  by  that  offer  of  reward. 

If  all  roads  were  posted  with  those  bills,  what 
stranger  would  escape  careful  examination  from 
the  authorities?  Her  startled  eyes,  with  that 
question  in  them,  sought  the  stranger's,  only  to  be 
met  again  by  that  grateful,  reassuring  smile  so  per 
plexing  to  her  with  its  sense  of  dominating 
courage. 

She  was  appalled  at  the  situation  made  possible 
through  her  folly.  Any  instant  some  new  compli 
cation  might  arise — something  not  to  be  smiled 
down  by  polite  phrases. 

And  Robinson  Kirkley — he  would  stay  overnight, 
of  course.  Her  father  would  invite  him  if  he  were 
there.  It  was  only  neighborly  to  invite  him— 
eminently  proper — now  that  a  young  stranger  was 
a  guest  in  their  Adamless  Eden.  But  the  tradi 
tions  of  propriety  of  her  most  rigid  grandmother 
would  have  been  tossed  aside  by  Jack  Marquand 
that  evening,  if  only  the  fates  had  allowed  her  to 
toss  them.  She  would  have  preferred  Rob  a  dozen 
miles  away,  and  Dorothy  and  Tabitha  safe  in  slumber. 


44  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

Then,  with  Ezra  and  good  horses  to  help,  he  should 
ride  far  beyond  those  offers  of  reward. 

"Mr.  Cardiff,  do  you  indulge  in  anything  so 
worldly  as  a  cigar?"  asked  Rob,  as  Tabitha  had 
gone  to  her  room,  and  the  young  people  had  stepped 
out  on  the  veranda.  The  moon  was  rising  over 
the  river  hills,  and  the  garden  looked  a  dream  of 
peace  backed  by  the  cedars.  "Friend  Jack  never 
objects." 

"In  that  case — '  And  Cardiff  looked  at  Jack, 
inquiringly. 

"Yes,  we  allow  worldly  pastimes  to  worldly 
folk,"  she  said,  with  a  little  absent  smile.  "Doro 
thy  carries  here  both  her  guitar  and  her  play 
books." 

"The  guitar! — good!"  decided  Rob.  "A  guitar 
is  exactly  what  is  needed  for  an  evening  like  this. 
If  Friend  Dorothy  will  look  it  up,  while  Mr.  Cardiff 
and  I  take  our  cigars  to  the  garden — 

His  one  thought  was  to  separate  Cardiff  from  the 
others  by  hook  or  crook,  but  he  reckoned  without 
Friend  Dorothy's  flirtatious  tendencies. 

"Mr.  Cardiff  can  smoke  at  ease  on  the  veranda, 
while  you  come  and  help  me  hunt  the  guitar  and 
the  plays.  Aunt  Tabitha  may  lock  them  up,  and 
me  with  them,  if  I  go  unprotected." 

Mr.  Kirkley  rose  obediently.  He  perceived  by 
the  way  Cardiff  settled  himself  in  a  great  oak  seat 
on  the  veranda,  after  placing  a  chair  for  his  hostess, 
that  there  was  slight  chance  of  getting  him  alone 
in  the  garden  to  listen  to  reason. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  45 

Yet  the  moment  the  two  disappeared  in  search 
of  the  guitar,  the  stranger  arose  quickly,  as  Jack 
pushed  back  her  chair  and  made  an  imperative 
gesture  bringing  him  to  her  side. 

"The  garden  may,  after  all,  be  a  more  enjoyable 
place  for  smoking,"  she  remarked,  with  an  attempt 
at  indifferent  tones.  But  her  eyes  as  they  were 
lifted  to  his  were  everything  but  indifferent — they 
were  so  charged  with  the  command  to  follow  her. 

He  cast  a  backward  glance  toward  the  living 
room,  and  saw  two  heads  bent  together  over  the 
guitar  it  was  taking  two  to  put  in  tune ;  then  down 
to  that  wonderful  figure  in  white,  luminous  against 
the  blue-black  shadows,  her  head  poised  in  an  alert, 
expectant  way,  enthralling  to  a  man  who  saw  in 
her  what  this  stranger  evidently  saw,  or  thought 
he  saw. 

"My  Quaker  maid!"  he  murmured,  softly,  in 
half  derision  of  his  possessive  term.  "My  wonder 
ful,  entrancing  puzzle  of  a  Quaker  maid!" 

He  lit  the  cigar,  and  then  held  it  at  arm's  length 
as  he  joined  her. 

"I  only  obey  your  order  to  smoke  that  I  might 
come  away  from  the  others  and  be  alone  with  you," 
he  said,  as  he  walked  beside  her.  "If  it  is  at  all 
offensive— 

"  No,  no ;  it  is  a  good  excuse  to  be  here.  I  thanked 
Rob  Kirkley  for  speaking  of  it.  I  am  so  very 
anxious — and  I  wanted  to  speak  with  thee  alone. 
If  the  sheriff  should  follow  thy  track,  thee  must 
know  the  hidden  ways  to  safety,  so  that  even  the 


46  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

other  guests  in  the  house  will  not  know.  At  the 
worst,  I  might  have  to  trust  Dorothy  and  Rob, 
but  my  father  never  trusts  any  but  the  few  who 
know.  I  noticed  the  injury  to  thy  arm — is  it  serious 
enough  to  cripple  thee  in  case  trouble  should  come?" 

"  I  think  not.  A  bullet  grazed  it  enough  to  burn 
a  little  and  draw  blood — little  more."  And  he 
held  it  out  for  inspection.  "I  can  still  touch  a 
trigger  or  hold  a  horse  with  the  hand.  If  it  had 
not  been  at  the  wrist,  and  the  stained  bandage 
slipped  down  when  I  arrived,  you  would  never 
have  known  it  was  scratched." 

"And  they  shot  after  thee!"  she  breathed  with 
an  indrawn  sigh  of  horror.  "Yet" — and  her  eyes 
turned  on  him  with  a  wealth  of  sympathy  in  their 
depths — "yet  it  were  better  had  they  shot  thee 
dead  than  to  trail  thee  with  the  hounds  and  take 
thee  back  alive — a  man  like  thee!  How — how 
was  the  knowledge  of  the  world  gained  by  which 
thee  has  blinded  the  others  to-night?  Thee! 
so  bound — so  barred  from  books — so — "  And 
she  shook  her  head  as  though  words  were  inade 
quate  to  express  the  density  of  his  limitations. 

"Oh,  books  have  helped  me  a  little,"  he  ventured, 
lamely. 

"But — thy  master — he  allowed  it?" 

"Allowed  it!  His  manner  of  insisting  was  too 
emphatic  to  admit  of  argument!"  declared  the 
stranger.  "Of  course,  I  should  rather  have  been 
riding,  or  gone  fishing;  but  I  had  to  keep  my  nose 
to  the  grindstone  half  the  time  at  least." 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  47 

"Ah!  thee  was  trained  differently  from  the  others. 
Thy — thy  appearance  would  warrant  them  in  that," 
she  said,  gently.  "  No  man  like  thee  has  ever  come 
that  road  before.  It  seems  marvelous  to  me— 
thy  learning — and  it  would  be  equally  so  to  my 
father.  It  were  much  better  if  he  were  here." 

"Perhaps,"  assented  the  man  beside  her,  but  his 
eyes  as  they  lingered  on  her  face  expressed  doubts. 

"Thy  man  will  be  taken  care  of  by  Ezra,"  she 
continued.  "  But  this  new  trouble — this  watch 
ing  all  roads  for  that  terrible  man — will  make  it 
difficult  to  get  away.  Yet — perhaps — thee  should 
try  after  the  others  are  asleep.  Thee  heard  what 
Rob  Kirkley  said." 

"Would  you  rather  I  should  go  now?"  he  asked, 
gently.  "Does  it  trouble  you  so  much  that  I  am 
here?  Say  the  word,  and  I  will  leave  at  once  and 
ride  either  way." 

"Either  way!"  And  she  turned  startled  eyes 
on  him,  and  put  out  her  hands  in  protest.  "Thee 
means — 

"I  mean  back  across  the  line  if  it  saves  you  a 
moment's  disquiet,"  he  said,  with  terse  directness. 
"For  some  reason  I  do  not  understand,  I  see  that 
you  are  greatly  troubled,  and — I  will  go  away." 

"But—" 

"I  should  never  have  stopped  here,"  he  broke 
in,  impetuously.  "If  anyone  but  yourself  had  met 
me  at  that  gate  I  should  have  secured  another 
horse,  and  been  miles  ahead  of  handbills  before 
this.  Can't  you — won't  you  understand?" 


48  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

She  stared  at  him  in  the  strange  half  light  under 
the  cedars.  He  could  not  see  whether  it  was  won 
der  or  fear  in  those  wonderful  eyes.  But  the  moon 
light  was  full  on  his  own  face,  and  there  was  no 
mistaking  the  gaze — ardent,  tender — which  he  bent 
upon  her. 

She  stepped  back,  her  hand  thrown  out,  as  if  to 
ward  him  off.  Then  it  dropped  to  her  side,  and 
she  leaned  against  the  great  cedar,  still  staring  at 
him  with  wide,  fascinated  eyes. 

"  I  know  it  is  unpardonable  in  me,"  he  burst  out, 
nervously.  "An  hour — two  hours — and  I  speak 
to  you  like  this !  But — a  shot  may  end  it  all  for  me 
on  the  road  I  am  going.  I  may  never  have  a  chance 
to  say  it  again — never!" 

"How — why  does  thee  dare?" 

"I  will  tell  you  why,"  he  said,  with  almost  rough 
decision.  "I've  had  just  one  idea  in  my  head  since 
I  heard  your  voice.  And  if  this  streak  of  ill  luck 
goes  by  me  I  shall  come  back  to  tell  you  in  a  more 
sane,  orthodox  way  the  thing  I  am  blundering  over 
in  this  crazy  fashion  to-night.  When  you  spoke 
to  me  at  that  gate  I  knew  it  was  all  up  with  me — 
all  up.  When  you  told  me  you  were  waiting  for 
me — expecting  me — I  should  have  followed  you, 
though  it  had  been  the  gate  of  hell  you  held  open." 

"  Thee  has  no  right — "  she  began. 

"No,  no  right!"  But  his  eyes,  with  their  steady 
directness,  their  strange  smile,  made  her  drop  her 
own.  "No  right  but  that  of  the  one  man  speaking 
to  the  one  woman — and  knowing  her  out  of  all  the 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  49 

world  the  moment  his  eyes  met  hers.  I  did  not 
know  even  your  name  then,  or  you  mine ;  but  what 
difference  did  that  make?  I  knew  you!  Don't 
shrink  like  that!  I  shan't  say  another  word — and 
I  shall  ride  away  in  the  night." 

Her  face  was  turned  farther  away  from  him— 
shrouded  in  the  shadows,  her  eyes  still  veiled  by 
their  white  lids.  No  guess  could  he  make  of  the 
expression  there,  when  only  the  line  of  dark  lashes 
was  outlined  against  her  white  cheek. 

"It  is  'good-by,'  my  Quaker  maid!"  he  said, 
gently.  "Never  mind  the  safe  hiding  places  you 
would  have  found  for  me ;  I  will  take  my  chance  in 
the  open,  my  girl  of  all  girls !  Oh,  can't  you  see  it 
is  worth  having  risked  all  I  have  risked  to  get  here 
— and  all  I  may  risk  if  they  catch  me — just  to  see 
you  as  I  have  seen  you — pitiful,  tender,  alarmed 
for  me,  the  stranger  at  your  gate?  Just  to  dare 
say  to  you  what  I  am  saying  now,  and  just  to  ride 
away  with  one  wild  hope  for  company — the  hope 
and  the  determination  to  come  back  to  you  some 
day,  somehow!  Good-by!" 

With  a  gesture  as  of  one  who,  with  an  effort,  casts 
aside  irksome  bonds,  she  stepped  from  the  shadow 
of  the  tree,  her  head  thrown  back  haughtily,  every 
line  of  her  figure  expressing  a  protest  too  intense 
for  words. 

As  he  bowed  before  her,  she  flung  out  one  hand 
imperiously  toward  the  road;  all  the  meek  blood 
of  the  Quaker  smothered  beneath  her  indignation. 

He  turned  away,   absolutely  obedient.     Yet,  as 

4 


50  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

she  could  see  by  the  determination  in  his  face, 
absolutely  set  in  his  certainty  that  he  would  come 
back  some  day,  somehow — would  dare  to  come 
back  to  her! 

He  had  scarcely  reached  the  central  path  of  the 
garden  when,  out  toward  the  barns,  a  sharp  com 
mand  rang  out:  "Halt,  there!"  Then  a  shot, 
and  a  shrill  cry  of  protest  from  Ezra. 

Jack  saw  figures  rush  across  the  barn  toward  the 
granary;  and  quick  as  light  she  sped  along  the  path 
and  caught  Cardiff's  arm  in  a  grasp  of  terror. 

"Come,"  she  said,  guardedly.  "Stoop  that  they 
do  not  see  thee  from  the  lawn.  It  is  the  sheriff  and 
his  men.  I  may  not  save  thy  comrade,  but  I  can 
thee!" 

"No,"  he  said,  grimly,  but  closing  his  own  hand 
over  her  clinging  fingers.  "No,  I  shall  not  bring 
blame  or  danger  to  you.  If  I  have  to  go  with  them, 
that  ends  it.  But  if  you  attempt  to  conceal  me 
and  fail,  your  father  would  have  every  right  to 
blame  me  for  placing  you  in  such  a  position.  If 
they've  got  my  man  they'll  know  I'm  here.  Let 
me  go." 

"Thee  shall  not  go!"  She  had  drawn  him  around 
the  shadowed  corner  of  the  veranda,  away  from 
the  moon's  radiance,  and  the  view  from  the  lawn 
by  the  barn.  Dorothy  and  Kirkley  could  be  heard 
rushing  down  the  front  steps.  Shrill  tones  of  col 
ored  men,  shaking  with  fear,  cut  across  the  deeper 
tones  of  white  men  who  were  commanding  and 
threatening. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  51 

"Thee  shall  not  go!  That  sheriff  shall  not  find 
thee  here!  If  I  let  thee  go  out  in  their  sight  from 
this  house  now  it  will  close  for  always  this  one  gate 
of  the  underground  railway  for  the  slaves.  My 
father  would  never  forgive  me — never!  Why  does 
thee  stare  like  that?  Oh,  come,  come!" 

"The  underground?  The  escape  for  runaway 
slaves?"  he  demanded,  taking  her  hands  in  both 
his  and  forcing  her  to  look  up  at  him.  "For  God's 
sake!  have  you  thought— 

"Yes,  yes,  yes!"  she  assented,  tremulously, 
scarce  heeding  his  wonder  or  his  strange  looks. 
" Come!  No  one  shall  tell!  Rob  will  help  if  I  must 
trust  some  one.  Only  come  at  once !" 

He  looked  down  at  her,  almost  smiling  now,  and 
nodded  assent. 

"I  told  you  there  was  no  gate  you  would  open 
that  I  would  not  enter,"  he  said  gently.  "Show 
me  the  way." 

She  had  opened  a  little  door  where  an  entry  led 
to  the  pantry,  and,  taking  his  hand,  led  him  through 
the  darkness.  There  were  turns  to  right  and  left. 
There  were  descending  steps,  and  very  narrow 
spaces  in  which  to  walk,  then  other  steps  to  climb, 
until  he  heard  a  door  slide  back  instead  of  swinging 
on  hinges,  and  then  he  stood  in  an  upper  room,  lit 
only  by  the  moonlight — a  bedroom,  whose  windows, 
and  one  glass  door  opened  on  the  veranda. 

"I  opened  this  door,"  she  said,  pointing  to  an 
open  space  in  the  paneling  in  the  wall  back  of  them, 
"that  thee  might  know  each  outlet.  Here  is  a 


52  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

candle;  thee  must  have  that  to  find  the  fastening 
of  the  locks.  If  they  search  this  room,  the  pantry, 
or  the  living  room,  thee  can  overhear  all  that  is 
said  from  this  hidden  corridor  and  guard  thy  move 
ments  accordingly.  This  room  is  my  father's;  and 
of  all  the  men  who  have  been  hidden  here  thee  is  the 
first  to  be  trusted  with  the  secret  of  the  openings." 

"And  why  trust  me,  after — 

He  looked  at  her  with  significant  meaning,  yet 
slightly  smiling;  even  in  the  moonlight  she  could 
see  that  smile,  and  her  eyes  flashed  resentment. 

"  Because  even  in  thy  folly  thee  is  not  a  coward ! " 
she  said,  with  hard  directness.  "Thee  has  a  white 
man's  courage  as  thee  has  his  outward  semblance. 
The  other  men  who  come  are  frightened  slaves 
whom  we  dare  not  trust,  lest  the  secret  be  lashed 
out  of  them  if  caught.  I  can  fancy  thee  killing 
thyself  or  thy  pursuers,  but  never  lashed  into  con 
fessing." 

"My  Quaker  maid!"  he  murmured  low.  But 
she  heard  him,  and  drew  back  the  hand  he  tried 
to  take  in  his. 

"Here  is  the  candle,"  she  said,  coldly.  "Light 
it,  that  I  may  show  thee  the  lock." 

He  did  so  obediently,  and  held  it  inside  the  open 
panel  that  no  direct  rays  should  touch  the  windows. 
Silently  and  swiftly  she  showed  where  the  spring 
was  hidden,  and  then  stepped  back  and,  without  a 
word,  closed  the  door  in  his  face. 

A  moment  she  stood  there,  half  faint  with  the 
sensations  crowding  upon  her.  The  voices  came 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  53 

closer;  she  could  hear  Rob's  in  expostulation  and 
Dorothy's  in  echo  of  it;  and  she  knew  as  well  as  if 
she  saw  her  Aunt  Tabitha  that  at  the  first  sound  of 
danger  that  lady  had  hidden  in  her  own  room  in 
the  far  wing  of  the  house,  and  would  only  be  of  use 
if  she  was  kept  out  of  the  way. 

She  stepped  out  on  the  veranda,  and  the  group 
near  the  steps  halted. 

"Noah  Marquand  is  from  home,"  she  said,  clearly. 
"What  is  thy  errand?  There  is  no  need  here  for 
firearms." 

"There  is  need  for  law  everywhere,"  returned  a 
gruff  voice.  "  I  am  a  deputy  sheriff  trailing  a  runa 
way  slave  from  Maryland.  We  lost  track  of  him 
back  a  ways,  but  your  black  man  is  hiding  some 
one  and  we  mean  to  get  our  man." 

"Why  use  powder  when  thee  has  thy  dogs?" 
asked  Jack,  contemptuously. 

"  Because  some  sort  of  blind  bluff  has  been  used 
to  throw  them  off  the  scent,"  said  the  officer,  dis 
gustedly.  "They  lost  it  three  miles  back;  but  we 
know  this  is  the  trail  the  man  was  heading  for,  and 
we  don't  mean  to  let  up." 

"You  will  speak  more  respectfully,  at  any  rate," 
said  Rob  Kirkley.  "If  Miss  Marquand  tells  you 
there  is  no  slave  hidden  here  you  are  bound  to  accept 
her  word." 

"Thank  thee,  Friend  Rob,"  said  Jack,  quietly 
"but  I  have  no  idea  of  doing  even  so  much  as  that. 
I  forbid  them  to  enter  my  father's  door  in  his  ab 
sence,  that  is  all." 


54  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"I've  a  warrant  to  search  any  suspected  build 
ing,"  said  the  man,  doggedly. 

"And  shoot  down  our  men  if  they  don't  open 
the  doors?" 

"It  wasn't  your  man  who  was  nipped,"  volun 
teered  the  man  who  held  two  immense  bloodhounds 
at  the  steps.  "And  this  one  wouldn't  have  been 
touched  if  he  had  stopped  when  told  to." 

"A  man  has  been  really  hurt?" 

"Very  slightly,"  said  the  deputy.  "But  he 
wasn't  our  man — not  tall  enough  by  two  inches." 

Jack  thought  of  that  other  man  standing  listen 
ing  behind  the  panels — of  his  height  above  the  aver 
age.  And  her  heart  seemed  to  stop  beating  when 
the  man  with  the  dogs  spoke. 

"You  offered  share  and  share  alike  of  the  reward," 
he  said,  with  blunt  decision,  to  the  deputy.  "I'm 
out  for  my  share,  and  I'm  not  waiting  for  anyone 
to  take  the  lead.  And  here's  my  say :  I  saw  a  man, 
fully  two  inches  taller  than  that  nigger,  standing 
with  that  girl  in  that  room  just  before  she  stepped 
out  on  the  porch.  It  was  only  for  a  second,  and 
then  the  candle  went  out,  and  I  couldn't  see  any 
thing  but  her  white  dress.  But  the  man  was  there 
— a  tall  man." 

"Why,  that "  began  Dorothy;  but  Rob's  hand 

closed  on  hers  meaningly,  and  she  was  silenced, 
staring  at  him  in  wonder,  and  then  at  Jack,  who 
stood,  emotionless  apparently  as  a  white-draped 
statue,  looking  down  on  them. 

"This    is   my   father's   bedchamber,"    she   said, 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  55 

quietly.     "No  one  else  uses  it.     You  can  see  it  is 
empty." 

"Empty  it  may  be  now,"  conceded  the  man  who 
was  out  for  the  reward.  "  But  I  saw  a  man  there— 
too  big  a  man  to  mistake.  Ain't  you  going  to  make 
a  search,  Jim?" 

"  No,  you're  not,"  said  Kirkley.  "  Miss  Marquand 
forbids  it." 

"But  the  law  is  above  Miss  Marquand,  maybe," 
retorted  the  man.  "Why  don't  you  give  the  word, 
Jim?  You  ain't  to  be  choked  off  by  any  high  and 
mighty  airs  of  a  pretty  girl,  are  you?" 

Kirkley  turned  angrily,  but  Dorothy  caught  his 
hand  and  Jack  called  to  him.  "Rob,"  she  said, 
quietly,  "what  these  men  want  to  do  thee  must  not 
interfere  with.  The  rudeness  is  the  affair  of  Noah 
Marquand  when  he  returns.  I  will  ask  thee  to  take 
Dorothy  at  once  to  Aunt  Tabitha's  room — she  needs 
thee.  I  will  attend  to  the  rest." 

Rob  looked  at  her  with  quick  comprehension; 
she  wanted  Dorothy  out  of  the  way.  A  refugee  was 
sacred  under  that  roof.  She  would  prove  herself 
Noah  Marquand's  daughter. 

"As  you  command,"  he  said,  simply.  "Come, 
Dorothy." 

"  Now,  Ike,  you  tackle  the  room  you  thought  you 
saw  the  man  in,"  said  the  deputy.  And  the  next 
instant  the  men  and  dogs  had  mounted  the  stairs 
and  filed  past  Jack  into  the  silent,  moonlit  room. 

The  dogs  sniffed  about  the  floor  in  a  desultory 
fashion,  and  showed  their  indifference  to  the  chase. 


56  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"Strike  a  light,  some  one,"  said  the  fellow  called 
Ike.  "I  did  see  a  light  here — just  a  flicker  of  a 
candle  for  just  a  moment.  Now  look  at  the  lay  of 
this  room !  No  one  could  leave  it  but  through  the 
glass  door  to  the  porch  or  here  into  the  hall.  The 
hall  doors  were  both  open,  moonlight  showing  clear 
through.  No  one  could  have  crossed  that  hall 
without  being  in  our  range.  Now,  where  did  that 
man  go?" 

"Where  did  the  candle  go?"  asked  the  deputy. 
"No  sign  of  that,  either." 

Jack  stood  silent,  while  the  bloodhounds  ranged 
the  room.  Finally  one  of  them  stretched  itself  at 
her  feet — a  powerful  brute,  that  caused  her  a  shud 
der  of  horror  at  the  thought  of  the  man  only  sepa 
rated  from  them  by  the  paneling  of  oak,  and  what  it 
would  mean  if  he  had  to  pit  his  strength  against 
theirs. 

The  others  soon  vacated  the  room,  where  no 
slightest  trace  could  be  found  of  the  fugitive.  Ike, 
with  the  deputy,  led  one  of  the  dogs  to  the  living 
room,  but  met  only  disappointment. 

"  That  girl  upstairs  knows  more  than  she  is  telling 
— a  lot  more!"  decided  Ike.  "There's  a  man  here, 
whether  anyone  else  in  this  house  knows  it  or  not. 
Chances  are  they  don't.  Look  at  that  rig  she's  got 
on!  Looks  a  lot  like  a  Quaker  dress,  doesn't  it?  I 
tell  you  she  is  dressed  for  something  special,  and 
there's  a  man  in  it — a  man  in  it!  She  was  scared 
sick  when  we  led  the  dogs  past  her  into  that  room. 
I  never  took  my  eyes  off  her." 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  57 

"Well,"  said  the  deputy,  "them  dogs  are  enough 
to  scare  most  women — Quaker  or  any  other  sort." 

"Shucks!  She  wasn't  scared  for  herself — not 
for  one  minute.  When  one  of  them  laid  down 
beside  her  she  didn't  mind  him  any  more  than  a 
kitten.  It  was  for  some  one  else  she  was  afraid,  Jim. 
I'm  damned  if  I  don't  find  out  who  it  is!  I'd  ha' 
won  the  office  of  sheriff  myself  instead  of  Kane  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  Marquand,  and  I  owe  him  one  for 
that.  If  his  daughter  isn't  hiding  a  nigger  in  this 
house  this  minute  she's  hiding  something  worse- 
some  man  who  prefers  the  bedrooms  to  the  parlor — 

"Oh,  you're  away  off!"  said  the  deputy,  impa 
tiently.  "Why,  that  girl— 

"That  girl  is  as  much  of  a  woman  as  most  girls," 
said  the  other,  doggedly.  "And  the  man  she's, 
hiding— 

"  Let  up,  can't  you?"  growled  the  deputy,  opening 
and  closing  a  closet  door,  and  thus  drowning  the 
sound  of  a  quick  movement  back  of  the  panels. 
"How  could  a  man  be  there  without  the  others 
knowing  ?  /  thought  I  saw  that  girl  in  the  white  dress 
alone  in  the  garden  just  about  the  time  you  say  you 
saw  her  with  the  man  in  that  room.  And  there's  no 
sort  of  use  in  you  trying  to  make  me  think  she  has  a 
white  sweetheart  hidden  there." 

"Then  it's  a  black  one,  that's  all,"  said  the  other, 
doggedly.  "You  can  take  your  choice  as  to  which 
you  think  it  is." 

The  two  stepped  out  into  the  hall  as  a  nervous 
hand  flung  open  the  hidden  door  in  the  pantry,  and 


58  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

Jack's  stranger  stood  for  a  moment  listening  to  the 
steps  and  voices  sounding  along  the  lower  veranda 
and  hall.  The  search  had  been  given  up,  and  the 
men  were  shuffling  down  the  front  steps. 

"Where's  the  other  dog?"  asked  the  deputy,  as 
they  reached  the  lawn. 

"  Oh,  it's  still  up  in  the  room  where  the  girl  is,"  said 
one  of  the  men.  "Ike's  gone  after  it.  I  guess  he 
wants  a  chance  to  tackle  her  alone,  anyway." 

The  words  sounded  clearly  on  the  night,  and  were 
followed  by  an  empty  laugh  from  one  of  the  men 
who,  only  by  aid  of  the  law,  could  ever  have  crossed 
the  Marquand  threshold. 

The  speech  and  the  laugh  came  up  to  Jack,  still 
sitting  there  alone,  rigid,  listening,  yet  heeding  no 
word  of  theirs.  But  the  words  also  carried  to  that 
side  entrance  where  the  refugee  stood. 

Swift  as  a  grayhound,  he  mounted  the  back  steps 
to  the  veranda.  But  once  there,  he  took  the  wrong 
turn,  and  found  himself  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
corridor  from  the  room  where  she  sat. 

But  the  other  man  reached  there  first,  and  his 
rough  tones  came  to  him  as  he  crossed  the  hall. 

"I  just  come  back  for  that  dog,  miss,"  he  said, 
insolently.  "The  deputy  has  called  us  off,  and  we 
have  to  give  up.  But  I'm  bound  to  tell  you  one 
fact :  You  may  fool  the  rest,  and  you  have ;  but  you 
haven't  fooled  Ike  Denny  a  little  bit.  /  know  that 
man  is  here.  He  may  be  black  or  he  may  be  white, 
but  he's  here.  Old  Noah  Marquand  may  fly  high 
but " 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  59 

It  was  then  that  Jack  shrank  back  against  the  wall 
with  a  low  cry  of  terror — of  protest,  of  supplication. 

For  a  lithe,  sinewy  figure  stood  in  the  door  facing 
her,  and  unseen  by  the  baffled  detective,  who  knew 
nothing  of  his  proximity  until  he  was  seized  by  an 
arm  certainly  not  disabled  by  the  burn  of  the  bullet 
he  had  mentioned.  The  man  was  lifted  bodily, 
jerked  through  the  open  door  to  the  veranda,  and 
pitched  recklessly  over  the  railing  almost  on  the 
heads  of  the  group  waiting  below. 

"Oh,  nothing  can  save  thee  now — nothing,  noth 
ing!"  moaned  the  girl,  who  had  rushed  forward,  and 
then  crouched  against  the  veranda  rail,  staring  at  the 
confusion  below  and  noting  the  deputy's  quick  rush 
for  the  stairs.  "  It  is  all  over — over!  Kill  thyself— 
but  never,  never  let  them  put  hands  on  thee!" 

A  most  strange  smile  of  victory,  yet  of  tender 
ness,  touched  his  lip,  and  he  rested  his  hand  for  an 
instant  on  her  hair  as  she  half  knelt  there.  Then  he 
stepped  back  as  he  saw  Kirkley  approaching,  star 
tled  by  the  wild  yell  of  the  man  thrown  to  the  lawn. 

But  the  suspect  held  up  his  hand  for  silence  as  the 
deputy  rushed  up  the  stairs  and  attempted  to  speak. 

"I  tossed  your  man  down  there  because  he  in 
sulted  this  lady  by  the  same  vile  insinuation  he 
made  to  you  in  the  living  room  a  few  minutes  ago. 
I  know  what  it  was — and  you  know.  In  future, 
try  to  find  less  brutal  creatures  to  do  your  work,  if 
the  law  allows  them  to  speak  to  ladies." 

"But  you?"  said  the  other.  "Where  did  you 
come  from?  Who  are  you?" 


60  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"  I  came  from  a  smoke  in  the  garden  a  little  while 
ago,  and  heard  that  man's  remarks  to  you  down 
stairs.  I  am  Richard  Cardiff  of  Baltimore.  I  refer 
you  to  Mr.  Kirkley  if  you  want  further  particulars. 
Come,  Miss  Marquand;  there  is  no  need  to  be 
alarmed.  The  man  has  only  broken  his  arm,  when 
it  should  have  been  his  neck. 

But  Jack  heard  nothing  of  his  last  words.  When 
Rob  Kirkley  and  Dorothy  rushed  up  the  stairs  she 
lay  on  the  veranda  in  a  dead  faint — white  as  the 
satin  in  the  antique  wedding  dress  she  wore. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  61 


CHAPTER  V. 

"By  the  Lord  Harry!  Won't  you  go  now?" 
demanded  Rob  Kirkley,  next  morning,  as  he  tramped 
the  garden  walk  and  glowered  at  Mr.  Cardiff,  who 
leaned  back  on  a  bench,  smoking  contentedly,  and 
showing  little  but  amusement  at  the  impatience  of 
his  friend. 

"Why  should  I,  when  the  game  is  up?  I  have 
a  good  excuse  now  for  staying  over.  Nat's  leg  was 
lamed  by  the  deputy's  bullet." 

"Lamed!  It's  nothing  more  serious  than  a  cut 
finger  would  be!  You  know  he'd  be  only  too  glad 
to  take  to  the  road  if  you  would  let  him.  The  poor 
devil  is  just  about  scared  to  death." 

"  Urn ! "  assented  Mr.  Cardiff.  "  But  he'll  not  die. 
And  as  for  leaving,  I  can't  do  that  until  I  see  our 
hostess.  Did  you  not  hear  Miss  Tabitha  beg  me  at 
breakfast  to  remain,  for  their  safety's  sake,  until 
Friend  Marquand's  return?" 

Rob  halted,  stared  at  him,  and  threw  up  his 
hands. 

"And  you  mean  to  do  it?" 

"Why  not?  This  is  a  pleasant  corner  of  the 
world,  and  I  tell  you  the  game  is  up.  That  sheriff 
met  me  as  Mr.  Jenkens;  the  deputy  as  Mr.  Cardiff. 
If  they  get  together  and  compare  notes — and 
they've  no  doubt  done  so  ere  this — what's  the  use 
in  me  wearing  out  horseflesh?  I  tell  you  the  game 


62  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

is  up,  Rob.  And  I  see  now  I  was  a  fool  to  leave 
the  plantation  as  I  did.  It  never  occurred  to  me 
that  the  clever  Susanne  would  turn  the  tables  on 
me  like  this.  You  see,  if  they  do  find  me,  and  I 
have  to  go  back,  I  can  go  now  with  a  clear  con 
science,  and  with  no  awkward  feeling  of  chivalry 
to  interfere  in  the  matter." 

"You  forget;  I  don't  see,"  contradicted  Rob. 
"You  have  not  told  me  a  confounded  thing  about 
the  matter  but  that  you  and  another  man  had  a 
shooting  match,  and  that  you  lit  out  to  keep  from 
mixing  up  a  woman  in  the  case.  I  did  not  know 
the  man's  name  or  any  other  facts  in  the  case  until 
I  struck  the  news  in  the  village.  Lord!  Dick,  you 
could  have  knocked  me  down  with  a  feather!" 

"Urn!  the  facts."  repeated  Dick.  "But  I  hap 
pen  to  have  some  facts  up  my  own  sleeve.  From  that 
printed  account,  Mrs.  Mintern  could  not  identify 
the  man  in  the  affair.  Do  you  see  what  that  means  ? 
She  does  not  intend  to  do  so,  neither  does  Captain 
Gleason — in  which  they  both  show  their  good  sense. 
It's  our  blessed  Uncle  Mintern,  with  his  spasms 
of  jealousy,  who  is  back  of  the  reward.  You  can 
wager  all  you  own  that  Mrs.  Susanne  is  not  help 
ing  him  any." 

"  I  fail  to  see  how  that  sort  of  a  mixup  with  your 
granduncle's  wife  gives  you  license  to  establish 
yourself  here  as  the  guest  of  that  wife's  second 
cousin,"  blurted  out  Rob,  hotly.  "If  Jack  Mar- 
quand  knew — 

"Easy — easy,    now!"    said    Mr.    Cardiff,    softly. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  63 

"What's  the  use  of  having  friends  if  they  can't 
take  you  on  trust  occasionally?  Don't  worry, 
Rob;  I'll  get  out  of  the  mix-up — if  I'm  lucky." 

"Lucky!     But  if  the  man  should  die?" 

"Well,  he  fired  the  first  shot.  If  the  worst  does 
happen,  I  should  have  to  prove  that  much  at  least 
by  the  fair  Susanne.  Why  won't  your  Dorothy 
let  me  see  her?" 

"Who?"  asked  Rob,  with  exaggerated  dense- 
ness —  "Your  Aunt  Susanne?" 

"To  the  depths  with  Susanne!  You  know  whom 
I  mean.  Can  she  be  ill?'' 

"How  do  I  know?"  grumbled  Rob.  "Dorothy 
gives  me  no  more  information  than  she  does  you, 
but  goes  around  looking  wise  and  feeling  important. 
Does  Jack  guess  the  truth?" 

"Not  within  a  hundred  miles  of  it,  I  am  happy 
to  say."  And  Mr.  Cardiff  smiled  oddly. 

"Then  I'm  up  a  stump,"  confessed  his  friend. 
"When  you  were  not  to  be  seen,  and  she  ordered 
me  to  clear  out  with  Dorothy,  I  thought  she  had 
grasped  the  whole  situation  and  meant  to  get  you 
out  of  the  sheriff's  reach.  Queer  things  are  told 
of  how  people  have  seemingly  dropped  off  the  face 
of  the  earth  when  they  reach  Noah  Marquand's 
boundaries,  and  I  fancied  she  could  have  hidden 
you  if  she  had  been  so  disposed." 

"Indeed!"  remarked  the  other,  with  lukewarm 
interest.  Rob  stared  at  him  sulkily  for  a  bit,  and 
then  blurted  out  his  impatience. 

"Look   here!    I    don't   know   what    your    little 


64  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

game  is;  but  you've  got  to  count  me  in.  If  you 
can't  trust  me,  you  can't  growl  if  I  don't  trust  you 
— do  you  see?  If  you  refuse  to  take  to  the  road, 
you  can  count  on  me  planting  myself  right  along 
side  till  I  see  what  you  mean  to  do.  I'm  in  a  devil 
of  a  fog  as  it  is." 

"Sorry!"  murmured  Mr.  Cardiff. 

"Sorry — the  deuce!  You're  nothing  of  the  kind. 
You're  fairly  jubilant  over  something  this  morn 
ing,  though  what  the  deuce  it  is  I  can't  see.  You 
look  to  me  to  be  in  a  pretty  bad  muddle,  if  you 
only  had  sense  enough  to  see  it." 

"  Haven't  an  atom,"  confessed  Mr.  Cardiff.  "  I'm 
only  waiting  to  greet  our  hostess,  and  after  a  little 
talk  I  may  see  my  way  out." 

"You'd  better  find  your  way  out  before  she  finds 
out  what  started  you  on  this  trip,"  suggested  Rob, 
darkly.  "You  gay  blades  across  the  line  have 
mighty  little  knowledge  of  Quaker  rules  of  living. 
Your  name  mixed  up  with  their  Cousin  Susanne 
would  land  you  in  their  perdition  mighty  quick." 

"Oh,  it  isn't  so  badly  mixed  up."  But  for  the 
first  time  a  definite  shadow  settled  on  Mr.  Cardiff's 
face,  and  he  rose  impatiently.  "  I  wish  to  Heaven 
you'd  quit  your  croaking,"  he  growled.  "You're 
bound  to  make  things  look  their  blackest." 

"All  right,"  said  his  friend.  "But  if  they  are 
anything  less  than  inky  you'd  better  confide  in 
'yours  truly.'  ' 

But  Mr.  Cardiff  tossed  aside  his  cigar  and  stalked 
down  the  garden  path  without  deigning  a  reply. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  65 

Rob  stared  after  him  a  full  minute,  and  then,  with 
a  gesture  of  decision,  he  wheeled,  and  started  for 
the  stables. 

"Where  is  Nat?"  he  asked,  and  that  darky  came 
tumbling  joyfully  out  of  the  granary  at  sound  of 
Kirkley's  voice. 

"Golly,  but  I  is  glad  to  see  you,  Mahs  Kirkley!" 
he  half  whispered,  after  looking  around  carefully. 
"I've  been  a-waiten'  fo'  jest  this  chance,  I  has! 
Mahs  Dick  has  me  scared  a'most  crazy  with  all  his 
doen's.  Can't  yo'  all  get  him  away  from  heah,  an' 
out  on  the  north  end  o'  this  road?" 

"Not  much  use  trying  that,"  confessed  Mr. 
Kirkley.  "And  all  we  can  do  is  to  try  and  help 
him  out  if  they  do  catch  him.  So  I'm  going  to  ask 
you  some  plain  questions,  Nat.  Did  you  see  that 
shooting?" 

"Nary  a  sight!     But  I  heerd  'em  both." 

"You  heard  the  two  shots?     Then  what?" 

"Well,  then  the  lady  screeched — no,  she  screeched 
first,  before  the  shots — just  before.  That  was 
aftah  Mahs  Dick  had  gone  through  the  arbah." 

"What  arbor?" 

"The  arbah  at  the  side  of  the  garden — the  side 
where  them  saddle  horses  was  tied." 

"Ah!     Whose?" 

"Mahs  Dick  ain't  tellen*  yeh  about  them?" 
asked  Nat. 

"No,  he  isn't.  The  chances  are  that  he'll  not 
until  it's  too  late  to  be  of  use  to  his  friends  who  want 
to  help  him.  That's  why  I  come  to  you." 


66  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"Well,  honest  Injun,  Mahs  Kirkley,  /  not  knowen* 
a  thing  about  the  shooten'—  -  an'  that's  a  fact. 
Mahs  Dick  ain't  a-tellen'  me  a  word,  an'  I  ain't 
a-asken'  nothen'.  He  jest  come  back  a-walken' 
sort  o'  brisk,  an'  mount  his  horse  an'  say,  'Nat,' 
he  say,  'I'm  fo'  across  the  line,  an'  I  ain't  a-goin' 
to  risk  no  steam  cars;  an'  you'd  better  go  back  to 
town.'  An'  I  say,  'Not  unless  yeh  drive  me  back, 
Mahs  Dick ;  yo'  sure  need  me  one  side  the  line  same 
as  the  other.'  Then  he  callen'  me  some  sort  o'  fool 
— not  a-meanen'  no  harm  by  it — an'  I  said  I  could 
go  along  if  my  mare  could  keep  up,  an'  she  could. 
Then  we  runs  into  you  at  that  tavern  fo'  break 
fast,  an'  yo'  says  we're  travelen'  yo'  road,  an'  yo' 
know  all  the  rest  'cause  yo'  ride  with  us.  Yes, 
sah;  yo'  seen  all  the  rest  only  excepten'  the  most 
'portant  part." 

"And  what  was  that?" 

"That's  when  the  fine  lady  heah  meets  him  at 
that  gate,  an'  him  not  aimen'  to  stop  only  fo'  hosses, 
an'  right  off  she  speaks  to  him  kine  an'  soft,  an' 
she  says,  says  she:  'Light  an'  walk  in!'  An'  in 
he  walk,  jest  like  a  fly  in  a  spider  web.  An'  heah 
we  is  with  our  feet  tangled  good,  an'  me  with  two 
birdshot  in  my  laig!" 

"Hum-m!"  Mr.  Kirkley  was  giving  little  heed 
to  the  recital  after  they  had  left  that  arbor.  "  How 
did  you  happen  to  have  the  horses  ready  for  the 
journey,  and  your  master's  portmanteau?" 

"Ain't  yo'  hearen'  'bout  his  leetle  fly  around 
with  Mahs  Mintern?"  asked  Nat,  in  surprise.  "No, 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  67 

I  reckon  he  ain't  had  chance  to  tell  yo'  all  that. 
Well,  that  house  party,  a-breaken'  up  an'  Mahs 
Dick  aimen'  to  start  fo'  the  city  in  the  mornen'- 
everybody  else  done  gone  but  him  an'  Captain 
Gleason.  An'  then  that  night  somethen'  happen 
to  put  Mahs  Mintern  in  a  rage  with  Mahs  Dick.  I 
heard  their  voices  'most  'leven  o'clock — 'cause  I 
was  talken'  with  Phebe  under  the  library  window, 
an'  we  thought  everybody  else  gone  to  bed.  An' 
then  Mahs  Dick  walk  out  o'  that  doah  good  an' 
mad,  an'  I  heah  him  say,  'Yo'  wrong,  Unc'  Min 
tern — yo'  dead  wrong!  But  I'm  goen'  jest  the 
same.'  An'  then  he  whistles  fo'  me,  an'  tells  me 
we  goen'  to  hit  the  road  right  then,  an'  to  pack  an' 
saddle.  Well,  I  all  done  packed,  so  I  broke  fo' 
the  stable.  Mahs  Dick  nevah  go  back  in  the  house 
at  all — jest  tramp  the  lane  till  I  tell  him  things  is 
ready.  Then  we  gets  into  the  saddles,  an'  heads 
fo'  the  east." 

"The  east?" 

"Urn,"  assented  Nat.  "We  go  two,  three  mile, 
when  I  happen  to  mention,  kind  o'  careless,  how 
Mahs  Mintern's  Steve  ain't  no  ways  fitten'  to  boss 
the  stable,  'cause  thah's  two  hosses  still  standen' 
in  the  stalls  with  the  saddles  nevah  tooken'  off  yet 
—an'  one  o'  them  a  side  saddle,  that  alles  has  to 
be  girthed  tight;  an'  what  yo'  think  he  do  when  I 
jest  made  mention  o'  that?" 

"Well,  what?" 

"Mahs  Dick  stop  dead  in  his  tracks.  He  sot 
thah  thinken'  a  minute,  an'  then  he  says,  'Yo' 


68  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

fool  niggah,  what  yo'  been  a-drinken'?  Thah 
wa'nt  no  ladies  out  a  riden',  so  thah  wa'nt  no  side 
saddles  on.'  But  I  p'intedly  held  to  it  that  thah 
was  a  side  saddle  on  the  little  black  filly  what  makes 
such  good  time  by  spurts.  Then  he  wheeled  around 
an'  nevah  left  the  lope  till  we  was  in  sight  o'  the 
Mintern  house  again.  Lights  was  all  out,  an'  he 
slowed  up  an'  rode  on  the  grass  at  side  o'  the  lane 
as  we  come  close.  Then  under  the  trees  we  sighted 
two  hosses  tied,  an'  no  one  with  them.  Mahs  Dick 
cussed  right  wicked  as  he  gets  down  an'  han's  me 
his  bridle,  an'  stalks  on  right  quiet  toward  the  house. 
I  ain't  a-seein'  him  no  mo'  till  I  heah  that  squak  o' 
the  woman,  an'  then  the  two  shots.  An'  aftah 
that  we  jest  hits  the  road,  an'  keep  a-comen'." 

"And  that  is  all  you  know?" 

"Every  Gord's  blessed  word!  An'  I  wouldn't 
ha'  been  tellen'  that  'cepten'  fo'  that  sheriff  shooten' 
me  las'  night.  Some  ways  Mahs  Dick  bluff  them 
off,  but  they'll  come  back — certain  suah! — unless 
yo'  all  can  get  him  to  clear  out  o'  heah  on  a  double- 
quick.  That's  why  I'm  a-tellen'  yo'  all,  in  hopes 
yo'  can — Fo'  Gord's  sake,  who  dat?  " 

A  carriage  was  driving  up  the  avenue  of  cedars; 
not  a  private  conveyance,  but  a  rather  dingy-look 
ing  affair,  such  as  was  for  hire  at  the  railway  station, 
ten  miles  across  the  country.  A  rather  plump 
little  lady,  with  a  profusion  of  fluffy,  light  hair, 
lounged  back  on  the  cushions  wearily,  and  turned 
her  head  to  speak  to  the  colored  maid  as  the  car 
riage  wheeled  into  the  lawn  drive, 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  69 

"  If  it  ain't  her  own  self,  I'm  a  coon!"  gasped  Nat. 

"Herself!     What  do  you  mean?" 

"Mrs.  Mintern — her  own  self!  Good  Lord!  her 
a-folleren'  Mahs  Dick!  If  his  Unc'  Peter  Mintern 
don't  shoot  him  dead  fo'  certain  this  time,  I'm  a 
ghost!" 


70  MY  QUAKER  MAID 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"He  has  asked  three  times  to  speak  with  you, 
Jack,  and  I  am  at  my  wits'  end  for  further  excuses." 

Jack,  lounging  in  her  room,  stared  out  across  the 
garden  and  pretended  not  to  hear. 

"And  to  faint — just  once  in  your  life — is  not 
such  a  terrible  thing,  lady  mine.  You  need  not 
be  ashamed  that  he  saw  you;  you  never  did  look  so 
handsome.  To  faint  prettily  is  thought  quite  a 
fine  lady  trick  these  days." 

"  I  am  no  fine  lady,"  declared  Jack,  "and  I  want 
to  know  none  of  their  tricks.  What  is  it  the  man 
wants  to  say  to  me?" 

"How  can  I  tell  what  a  handsome  man  wants  to 
say  to  a  pretty  girl?  But  if  any  man  threw  another 
from  the  roof  for  my  sake,  I  suppose  he'd  expect  me 
to  have  something  to  say — at  least,  he'd  expect  me 
to  be  civil.  Aunt  Tabitha  has  asked  him  to  stay 
until  your  father  comes  home,  so  you  might  as  well 
see  him  first  as  last.  He  is  talking  with  Rob  in  the 
garden — no,  there  he  is  on  the  varanda.  Jack, 
won't  you  be  civil?" 

What  Jack  might  have  said  to  this  last  entreaty 
was  driven  away  by  a  suppressed  shriek  from 
Dorothy. 

"Jack,  as  sure  as  I'm  a  sinner,  there's  your  kid 
napped  cousin,  Susanne!" 

Jack  fairly  reeled  from  the  couch  to  the  window. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  71 

All  she  could  see  was  the  carriage  cover  as  it  rolled 
along  the  avenue  toward  the  entrance  to  the  lawn. 

"Thee  is  sure?"  she  gasped.  "Go  greet  her  for 
me;  and — and  tell  him  to  come  to  me,  at  once,  in 
the  dining  room." 

"Friend   Cardiff?"    asked   Dorothy,    delighted. 

"Mr.  Cardiff — yes.  Say  nothing  to  her  of  his 
presence  here — not  yet.  Go — go  quickly!" 

"At  last  I  have  my  heart's  desire,"  cried  Dorothy, 
dancing  toward  the  door.  "I  wanted  you  in  the 
city,  to  beat  her  at  her  own  game.  But  it  is  quite 
as  well  if  she  comes  to  the  country,  so  long  as  the 
men  are  here." 

She  whisked  out  of  the  room,  paused  an  instant 
to  speak  to  Mr.  Cardiff  on  the  veranda,  and  then 
slackened  her  jubilant  steps  to  a  more  stately  gait 
—one  befitting  a  mistress  of  ceremonies,  about  to 
welcome  the  belle  and  toast  of  a  season. 

Jack  was  leaning  against  the  casement  of  the 
window,  a  great  fear  in  her  eyes,  as  Cardiff  entered 
the  room  and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

"You  are  willing  to  speak  to  me?" 

"She  has  come — my  Cousin  Susanne!" 

She  looked  quite  as  much  like  fainting  as  she  had 
the  evening  on  the  veranda. 

"  It  can  no  longer  be  hidden ;  she  will  tell  them  all." 

"I  think  not,"  said  Mr.  Cardiff,  quietly.  "I  did 
Mrs.  Mintern  a  favor  once — a  trifle,  yet  she  may 
remember.  If  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  let  me  have 
a  few  words  alone  with  her,  I  think — I  am  quite 
certain — she  will  be  our — my  friend." 


72  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"Thee  dares  to  risk— that?" 

"  It  is  no  more  risk  than  to  make  a  dash  and  take 
to  the  road — not  so  much,  believe  me.  I  could  tell 
you  why;  I  meant  to  tell  you  this  morning.  But 
they  are  coming,  and  there  is  no  time.  Only  trust 
me  a  little  longer." 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him,  and  again  the 
quick  flush  touched  her  face,  and  only  deepened  as 
she  tried  to  suppress  it.  Her  anger  at  her  own 
weakness  was  so  intense  that  she  felt  she  half  hated 
the  man  for  his  daring — his  smiling  certainty  that 
his  plausible  words  could  win  whom  he  would  to 
his  cause.  She  felt  as  she  had  felt  at  the  tea  table 
last  night,  when  he  fascinated  the  others  and  left 
her  a  paling,  flushing  creature — half  afraid,  and 
wholly  resentful. 

Trust  him  after  last  night — after — 

"It  is  no  question  of  me  trusting  thee  now,"  she 
said,  coldly.  "It  is  only  a  question  of  thy  own 
safety;  and  it  is  for  thee  to  decide.  Thee  can  wait 
for  my  cousin  in  the  parlor." 

She  moved  toward  the  door,  her  head  up  and  her 
face  turned  away.  He  should  not  fancy  for  one 
moment  that  she  cared  more  for  his  safety  than  she 
did  for  the  black  man  whom  the  deputy  had  hurt. 
Of  course,  she  never  had  cared  more— and  yet— 

She  met  Mrs.  Susanne  Mintern  on  the  veranda 
steps,  and  greeted  her  with  her  usual  quiet  courtesy ; 
while  that  lady — to  Dorothy's  extreme  delight — 
stared  in  amazement  at  the  slender  figure  in  the 
gray  Quaker  dress. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  73 

"I  vow,  Cousin  Jack,  you  have  grown,  at  least!" 
she  laughed.  "Gracious!  you  are  taller  than  I,  and 
quite  a  woman!  But  why  does  Cousin  Noah  not 
find  prettier  things  than  this  for  you?"  And  she 
touched  the  sleeve  of  Jack's  dress  teasingly.  "  It 
makes  you  look  like  your  own  Aunt  Tabitha  for 
sedateness.  Where  is  she?  And  where  is  Cousin 
Noah?  I  have  instant  need  of  him  to  help  me  with 
Peter  Mintern.  My  nearest  male  relative  is  the 
one  I  need  to  quiet  his  fits  this  time." 

"Fits?"  giggled  Dorothy,  who  was  divided  in 
her  delight  between  Susanne's  frankness  and  Jack's 
wonder  at  this  latest  advent  from  the  world  of 
fashion. 

"Fits?  Worse  than  that,  my  dear.  This  time 
they  are  convulsions!  He  was  jealous  enough  in 
Philadelphia — you  all  saw  it.  But  just  guess  what 
his  latest  craziness  is.  Unless  I  describe  or  name 
the  wretch  who  shot  Captain  Gleason,  he  will  sepa 
rate  from  me!  The  truth  is,  Jack,  he  has  separated 
from  me — for  the  twentieth  time  in  three  years. 
But  this  time  he  is  in  a  really  frantic  temper.  Now 
do  you  guess,"  she  added,  as  she  sank  down  on  a 
settee  of  the  veranda,  and  flung  her  gloves  and  her 
scent  bottle  and  her  wrist  bag  beside  her  emphatic 
ally — "do  you  guess  what  has  driven  me  here?" 

"Driven  thee?"  faltered  her  cousin. 

"Just  that!  If  I  went  to  the  town  house  he 
would  rave  if  I  saw  people — and  I  should  die  if  I 
was  in  reach  of  them  and  could  not  see  them!  He 
would  have  my  every  step  watched  there  until  I 


74  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

should  feel  haunted,  he  is  so  set  on  learning  who 
that  man  is — as  if  I  knew!  But  if  he  hears  I  have 
buried  myself  here  in  the  country  he  will  know  I 
am  deadly  serious,  and  can't  possibly  be  flirting. 
Then,  in  a  week  or  two — with  Cousin  Noah  to  help 
persuade  me — I  may  consent  to  forgive  the  Honor 
able  Peter  his  uncalled-for  cruelties." 

She  lifted  a  dot  of  a  lace  handkerchief  to  her  eyes 
with  her  finger  tips,  sniffed  a  little,  and  then  laughed 
gayly. 

"Oh,  it  will  work,  Jack!  Don't  look  so  horri 
fied.  It  will  work  beautifully.  It's  no  trick  to 
manage  men,  even  your  own  husband,  when  you 
know  how." 

Dorothy  laughed  with  her,  but  Jack  regarded  her 
with  perplexity.  Was  this  the  woman  he  had  just 
said  would  perhaps  remember  a  favor  once  done 
her?  How  could  this  thistle-down  of  a  creature 
remember  any  duty? 

"I  did  not  mean  to  look  horrified,"  she  said, 
quietly.  "Will  thee  come  within  until  a  room  is 
arranged  for  thee?  In  a  few  minutes  I  will  come 
for  thee," 

"How  ceremonious!"  laughed  Susanne.  "It  is 
that  Quaker  gray  makes  such  a  demure  mouse  of 
you,  Jack." 

"  Perhaps  it  is,"  said  Jack,  as  she  opened  the  door 
of  the  living  room  for  her  cousin.  "Dorothy,  I 
shall  have  need  of  thee." 

Then  the  door  closed  on  Mistress  Mintern,  and 
she  cast  a  glance  from  the  window  to  where 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  75 

Mr.  Kirkley  lingered  on  the  lawn.  He  was  a  good- 
looking  young  fellow — rather  young,  of  course, 
but  in  a  dreary  exile  of  this  sort  any  kind  of  a  man 
was  worth  cultivating. 

She  crossed  to  the  mirror  over  the  mantel,  flecked 
some  dust  from  her  hat,  smoothed  her  hair  with 
tender  little  pats,  and  gave  a  gurgling  cry  of  terror 
at  sight  of  a  man's  face  over  her  shoulder. 

He  had  risen  from  a  seat  by  the  chimney,  and  as 
he  walked  slowly  toward  her  she  retreated  in  white- 
faced  terror. 

"For  Heaven's  sake — Dick!"  she  exclaimed,  and 
stood  trembling.  All  her  audacity,  all  her  little 
coquettish  airs  were  gone  as  she  stood  there  swal 
lowing,  and  half  gasping  for  breath.  "What — 
why  in  all  the  universe  have  you  come  here?" 

"  I  might  echo  that  question  had  I  not  just  heard 
you  explain  on  the  veranda  why  you  have  come," 
he  replied,  grimly.  "I  stopped  for  a  horse,  but 
I'm  going  to  stay  until  Mr.  Marquand  returns.  So 
if  you  fear  your  husband  trailing  you  to  find  a  cer 
tain  man,  perhaps  it  would  be  as  wise  for  your  call 
here  to  be  of  the  briefest." 

"Oh-h-h!"  A  slight  rising  inflexion  gave  a  tan 
talizing  cadence  to  the  prolonged  vowel,  as  Mistress 
Mintern  half  closed  her  eyes  and  regarded  him  in 
a  shrewd,  significant  way.  "You  are  waiting  for 
Noah  Marquand,  but  you  took  care  to  come  visit 
ing  when  he  was  away.  So  this  is  why  ordinary 
amusements  could  no  longer  interest  you  on  the 
plantation — you  wanted  rarer  game  to  stalk?  A 


76  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

Quakeress!     Lord!  Dick,  this  is  the  richest  joke  of 
the  season!     If  only  it  were  safe  to  tell  of  it!" 

' '  Fortunately  it  may  occur  to  you  that  it  is  not  safe, ' ' 
remarked  Mr.  Cardiff. ' '  I  would  suggest  that  you  tell  as 
little  as  you  know  of  anything  for  some  time  to  come." 

"Are  you  threatening  me?" 

"Of  course  not.  But  I  got  out  of  your  way  once 
—took  to  the  pike  and  rode  like  the  devil  just  to 
get  away — and  I  warn  you  I  shan't  do  it  again.  I'm 
here  first,  Susanne,  and  I'm  here  to  stay." 

The  door  opened,  and  Jack  looked  from  one  to 
the  other  questioningly ;  their  voices  had  reached 
her,  but  not  the  words.  Mr.  Cardiff  was  regarding 
Susanne  with  a  peculiar  expression — not  at  all  that 
of  a  suppliant.  And  it  took  all  of  Mrs.  Mintern's 
social  training  to  gather  her  wits  for  the  emergency. 

"What  a  surprise  to  find  Dick  Cardiff  here!' 
she  remarked,  as  carelessly  as  might  be.  "You 
know,  of  course,  his  relationship  to  my  husband? 
Quite  a  family  party  we  will  be.  And  your  neigh 
bor,  Mr.  Kirkley,  whom  I  just  met,  is  quite  an 
acquisition.  Even  a  Quaker  farm  can't  be  very 
dull  with  so  many  worldly  folk  here.  Ready  for 
me,  Jack?  I'm  frightfully  dusty." 

Then  Mr.  Cardiff  held  open  the  door  as  she  swept 
past,  and  Jack  avoided  his  eyes  and  ignored  his 
low  bow  as  she  followed. 

Some  way  he  had  won  Susanne  to  his  cause ;  but, 
much  as  Jack  might  be  amazed,  she  did  not  mean 
to  betray  the  slightest  interest  as  to  how  it  had 
been  accomplished. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  77 


CHAPTER  VII. 

How  that  day  of  Susanne's  arrival  passed,  Jack 
Marquand  could  never  recall  clearly.  The  night 
and  the  morning  had  been  filled  with  wonderful 
illuminated  moments  and  startling  shocks  of  feel 
ing,  under  all  of  which  she  was  forced  to  appear 
calm,  unmoved — an  unemotional  Quakeress.  Yet 
every  fiber  of  her  being  throbbed  hot  with  dread, 
with  anger,  and  with  a  strange  wonder  at  herself 
that  the  dominant  idea  of  saving  the  man  should 
intensify,  instead  of  diminishing,  after  her  knowl 
edge  of  his  plausible  acting  to  everyone — even  to 
herself  in  the  garden. 

She  recalled  what  Dorothy  had  told  her  of  the 
play-acting  heroes  of  the  theaters,  of  their  coun 
terfeiting  the  motions  they  did  not  feel,  and  her 
face  flushed  hotly  as  she  recalled  how,  for  one  brief 
moment,  his  pretnese  had  appealed  to  her  in  an 
answering  thrill  so  new,  so  strange,  so  wonderfully 
— dare  she  even  to  herself  say? — wonderfully  sweet. 

She  did  not  say  it — she  did  not  even  dare  think 
it.  But  that  great  radiance  of  the  heart  spoke  for 
her,  under  all  her  outward  self-control,  under  all 
her  mocking  impatience  with  herself,  with  him. 

Could  acting  such  as  Dorothy  told  of  cause  a 
man's  face  to  pale  as  his  had  paled  in  the  moon 
light  when  he  had  so  boldly  dared  to  claim  her  as 
the  one  woman?  Yet  had  he  not  lied  to  everyone 


78  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

else  about  almost  everything,  and  carried  so  well 
the  manners  of  truth  that  no  one  doubted — no  one? 

She  herself  was  at  times  almost  convinced  as  she 
listened  to  his  easy  evasions,  and  heard  him  put 
aside  queries  causing  her  own  heart  to  stand  still 
with  dread  lest  by  some  forgotten  thing  he  stand 
confounded  before  them  all.  Had  his  words  to 
her  in  the  garden  been  lies  like  the  rest? 

Many  slaves — more  than  she  could  count — had 
come  that  trail  in  the  last  few  years.  Twice  there 
had  been  women  who  looked  entirely  white;  one 
had  bright,  blond  hair,  and  a  complexion  of  milk 
and  roses,  but  she  was  a  slave  for  all  that,  and  flee 
ing  from  a  dreaded  master. 

Jack  remembered  that  her  father  had  seemed 
very  sorrowful  over  that  case;  it  appeared  that  the 
more  white  blood  the  more  sad  was  the  situation. 
She  told  herself  that  this  man,  not  only  white  but 
of  unusual  education,  was,  even  though  born  in 
slavery,  a  man  whom  her  father  would  have  met 
as  a  man — one  whom  she  had  done  no  wrong  in 
helping;  yet — 

Hedged  in  as  she  was  from  knowledge  of  the 
world,  no  discussions  had  ever  reached  her  of  that 
impassable  color  line  between  the  races.  Nothing 
had  ever  occurred  in  her  life  to  make  her  think  of 
it,  until  a  wild  primal  emotion  had  throbbed  for  one 
instant  through  her  heart  in  response  to  his  avowal 
and  appeal  under  the  cedars. 

And  then!  She  knew  her  father's  wide  phil 
osophy  would  have  recognized  in  him  a  man  and  a 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  79 

brother,  but —  She  grew  rigid  with  terror,  and 
cowered  from  herself  as  she  said,  over  and  over,  lest 
she  forget  it  for  an  instant:  "A  slave!  A  slave! 
A  slave!" 

She  was  striving  to  bury  all  the  Quakerish  idea 
of  the  equality  of  man  under  the  code  of  the  more 
worldly  creed,  that  the  latter  might  serve  as  a  safe 
guard  against  the  subtle,  mesmeric  bonds  he  had 
flung  about  her  in  return  for  the  freedom  she  was 
helping  him  to. 

"Now  do  you  wonder  that  they  call  him  'Beau 
Cardiff'?"  demanded  Dorothy,  who  was  scorching 
her  pretty  fingers  with  a  hot  poker  in  the  endeavor 
to  arrange  ringlets  as  irrisistible  as  Susanne's  fluffy 
tresses.  "Rob  is  fine;  but  he  can't  compare  in 
quality  airs  with  the  Honorable  Richard  Cardiff. 
Look  at  Mrs.  Mintern  with  him  on  the  lawn.  I 
heard  she  set  her  cap  for  him  in  Baltimore  and 
failed.  It  does  not  look  as  if  she  is  failing  now." 

Jack  glanced  where  Dorothy  pointed,  and  set 
her  teeth  grimly  for  an  instant. 

From  a  garden  seat,  Susanne  was  laughing  up 
into  Cardiff's  face  in  a  strangely  tantalizing  man 
ner.  He  had  just  joined  her,  and  stood  a  few  paces 
off,  leaning  against  a  vine  trellis  and  looking  down 
at  her  with  an  unmistakable  frown  on  the  face 
Dorothy  had  declared  so  handsome.  He  held  a 
slender  switch  in  his  hand,  and  threshed  his  riding 
boot  with  it  impatiently.  His  manner  had  no 
longer  the  easy  suavity  heretofore  distinguishing 
him  even  when  compared  with  the  elegant  Kirkley. 


80  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

His  words  were  evidently  not  many,  but  his 
manner  suggested  anger,  and  Susanne's  tantalizing 
laugh  sounded  clear  as  she  leaned  back  on  the  gar 
den  seat  and  looked  up  at  him.  Then  he  tossed 
away  the  switch  and  turned  toward  the  house,  as 
if  ending  the  conversation. 

"Why  can't  you  answer,  Dick?"  she  called  after 
him,  and  laughed  again  when  he  walked  on  without 
looking  at  her. 

Then  Rob  Kirkley  joined  her,  and  they  sauntered 
together  into  the  garden,  where  Jack  had  pruned 
roses  the  day  before.  Could  it  be  only  a  day  ago? 
As  she  stared  out  on  the  green  lawn  it  seemed  many 
days  and  many  nights  had  passed  since  then;  at 
least,  she  had  lived  a  long,  long  time. 

That  he  had  won  Susanne  to  his  cause,  as  he  had  won 
all  else,  was  not  so  strange  a  thing,  perhaps ;  but  a  dull 
anger  flamed  in  her  at  sight  of  that  strangely  intimate 
attitude.  The  fact  that  he  was  angry  with  Mrs.  Min- 
tern  only  made  it  appear  so  much  more  strange. 

All  through  the  dinner  at  noon  she  had  felt  her 
blood  tingle  at  Susanne's  gay  comradeship  with 
him.  His  attitude  had  been  above  reproach  to 
Peter  Mintern's  wife.  Tabitha  gave  him  more 
than  one  look  of  commendation  for  his  careful  cour 
tesy  to  Mrs.  Mintern,  despite  Susanne's  careless 
appeal  on  all  questions  to  "Dick"  and  to  "Dick" 
again,  The  worldly  ways  acquired  by  their  kins 
woman  were  cause  of  wonder  to  Tabitha,  and  she 
was  thankful  that  the  only  actual  stranger  at  the 
table  was  Peter  Mintern's  nephew. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  81 

But  during  that  one  little  meeting  with  her  on 
the  lawn  he  had  not  been  distant  in  manner,  or 
ceremonious.  He  had  been  most  curt — even  rude; 
and  Dorothy,  from  the  wisdom  of  her  worldly 
experience,  volunteered  the  information  that  only 
a  woman  in  whom  a  man  is  interested  has  power 
to  irritate  him  much.  At  which  Jack  grew  at  once 
remindful  that  Susanne  was  her  kinswoman  and 
guest;  also  that  she  was  married. 

Whereupon  Dorothy  put  her  tongue  in  her  cheek 
and  smiled,  and  then  begged  Jack  to  put  on  the 
white  satin  dress  once  more,  that  Susanne  might 
see  how  handsome  she  looked.  And  then,  her 
curls  being  to  her  liking,  and  Jack's  scorn  for  white 
satin  dresses  being  forcibly  expressed,  she  fled 
from  the  wrath  of  it  and  joined  the  others  at  the 
tea  table,  where  Tabitha  was  waiting  for  Jack. 
And  while  they  waited,  Dorothy  began  with  renewed 
ardor  the  questions  of  the  sensation  at  Bayside, 
from  which  subject  Mrs.  Mintern  had  once  fled  to 
the  garden. 

After  a  little  hesitation,  Jack  went  down  and  took 
her  place  at  the  table.  She  would  have  infinitely 
preferred  doing  without  tea  to  meeting  again  the 
eyes  of  Susanne  or  Dick  Cardiff,  and  be  included 
in  any  silent  compact  with  the  two  after  that  scene 
between  them  in  the  garden.  Thus  she  was  doubly 
thankful  to  Dorothy  for  some  leading  question  of 
the  kidnaping,  requiring  the  attention  of  Susanne 
as  she  joined  them. 

"But  the  paper  said  you  were  prostrated  by  the 

8 


82  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

shock — not  able  to  discuss  the  awful  affair,"  said 
Dorothy,  regarding  Mrs.  Mintern  with  much  specu 
lation.  "How  did  you  ever,  ever  pluck  up  courage 
for  the  journey?" 

"Oh,  the  journey  was  not  so  long — only  four 
hours  on  the  cars  from  Baltimore.  I  was  glad  to 
get  away  in  the  hope  of  forgetting  the  subject,  but 
it  seems  useless." 

Her  voice  suggested  that  she  was  either  wearied 
or  bored,  for  Dorothy  had  already  presented  a  long 
list  of  curious  questions  concerning  the  incident, 
and  Rob  Kirkley  was  not  far  behind.  It  gave  him 
great  pleasure  to  watch  the  two  leading  characters, 
especially  Dick,  affect  indifference  to  the  facts  as 
related  by  Nat,  and  accept  the  newspaper  history 
as  corroborated  by  Mrs.  Mintern,  who  was  out 
wardly  careless,  but  inwardly  furious  at  Dick's 
slight  little  smile,  when  a  question  from  Dorothy 
would  at  times  make  replies  excessively  awkward. 

Not  that  Susanne  had  any  objection  to  embel 
lishing  romances  for  the  entertainment  of  her 
Quaker  relatives,  but  this  particular  romance — 
and  with  Mr.  Cardiff  observing  her  with  eyes  half 
closed  and  smiling — was  enough  to  test  the  temper 
and  the  wits  of  any  daughter  of  Eve,  however 
wise. 

"  But  Susanne,  if  the  moon  shone  and  it  was  in 
the  second  quarter,  it  is  strange  thee  could  guess 
nothing  of  the  man's  size  or  age,  or  even  color," 
remarked  Tabitha,  placidly.  "It  is  not  so  strange 
that  Peter  insisted  that  thee  should  try." 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  83 

"How  could  I  tell  when  I  fell  in  a  faint?"  asked 
Susanne. 

"  But  his  voice — not  even  that  did  tell  thee  any 
thing?" 

"Only  to  keep  quiet." 

"  Maybe  the  man  only  wanted  to  rob  the  house?" 
suggested  Dorothy. 

"Captain  Gleason  thought  not;  because  of  the 
horses  found  saddled  and  other  reasons.  I've  no 
opinion." 

"Well,  it's  as  soul-stirring  as  our  adventure  here 
last  night,"  decided  Dorothy.  "Did  you  know 
the  sheriff  mistook  Mr.  Cardiff  for  a  runaway  white 
slave?  Oh,  we  had  exciting  times  for  a  few  min 
utes.  I  have  not  gotten  over  the  thrill  of  it  yet." 

"It  was  an  awful  thing  to  happen  to  a  guest  of 
ours,"  said  Tabitha,  severely.  "I  pray  that  it 
does  not  get  abroad." 

Jack's  watchful  eyes  urned  quickly  to  Susanne, 
but  that  lady  was  only  mildly  amused. 

"You've  been  taken  or  wanted  for  a  good  many 
things  in  your  time,  Dick,"  she  remarked,  mean 
ingly,  "but  that  sort  of  a  runaway  is  a  new  one. 
By  the  way,"  she  added,  as  she  noticed  Jack's  alert, 
questioning  look,  "what  did  bring  you  across  the 
line?  A  pretty  girl  on  this  side?  I  should  think 
your  rent  roll  would  insure  to  you  victories  enough 
at  home." 

"  Oh,  a  man  may  have  a  hope  of  finding  new  ter 
ritory  where  rent  rolls  do  not  count,"  he  returned, 
glancing  at  Jack. 


84  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

Susanne  intercepted  the  glance  and  opened  her 
eyes  in  annoyed  comprehension;  the  thing  she  had 
taunted  him  with  as  a  jest  on  finding  him  there,  had 
perhaps  real  foundation ;  in  fact,  he  was  all  eyes  for 
the  overgrown  schoolgirl — he,  Beau  Cardiff,  whom 
half  the  girls  and  matrons,  too,  had  intrigued  for. 
She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  laughed. 

"Never  think  it,  Dick!"  she  said,  easily.  "Rent 
rolls  always  count.  If  you  want  to  beat  the  other 
man's  time  (and  there's  always  another  man)  you 
must  have  the  most  money.  It's  the  deciding  vote 
with  even  the  most  unsophisticated  maid — isn't  it, 
girls?" 

Dorothy  protested  to  the  contrary,  but  Jack  was 
busy  serving  spiced  peaches,  and  cutting  cake  in 
disapproving  silence.  It  was  well  enough  for 
Susanne  to  remember  a  favor  and  help  shield  the 
man,  but  this  converse  in  the  very  free,  even  inti 
mate,  manner  was  certainly  uncalled  for;  and  she 
ignored  the  appeal. 

"I've  a  most  heartfelt  interest  in  having  this 
thing  decided,"  Kirkley  insisted.  "My  governor 
sent  me  word  that  it  was  time  for  me  to  come  home, 
settle  down,  and  get  married.  I've  obeyed  part  of 
the  command,  and  if  I  manage  the  rest  I'd  like  to 
know  how  I  am  to  be  sure  if  it's  myself  the  girl 
marries  or  the  governor's  acres." 

"  Then  do  as  Dick  suggests — find  a  territory  where 
no  one  knows  you  have  a  share  of  the  acres.  You'll 
get  a  girl,  of  course,  but  she's  likely  to  be  a  kitchen 
maid.  This  is  not  the  romantic  age  when  high  born 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  85 

maids  step  down  to  the  lad  who  has  only  a  love  song 
to  offer." 

"Must  we  accept  your  personal  view  for  that  of  the 
sex?"  queried  Cardiff. 

He  appeared  always  to  have  the  power  to  irritate 
her  with  the  most  casual  of  remarks,  and  she  shot  an 
exaggeratedly  indifferent  glance  at  him. 

"Oh,  you'll  discover  how  many  share  the  view 
if  you  really  ever  start  the  search  with  only  a  love 
song  to  sing;  and  if  you  want  to  be  quite  certain, 
Dick,  you'd  better  travel  on  foot  instead  of  horse 
back,  and  leave  your  servant  behind.  Then,  with 
only  your  face  for  your  fortune,  we'll  see  what  you 
bring  back." 

He  regarded  her  with  an  amused,  speculative 
stare,  and  then,  after  a  moment,  smiled  and  made 
her  a  mocking  bow. 

"I  have  to  thank  you  for  the  suggestion,  Mrs. 
Mintern.  Some  day  I  may  let  you  know  the  result 
of  such  an  experiment." 

"Will  you  wager?"  she  demanded.  "I'll  put  up 
any  horse  in  the  stable  against  your  own." 

"  I  never  wager  when  there  is  a  woman  involved," 
he  replied,  carelessly;  "and  this  woman,  you  know, 
is  to  be  the  woman  of  all  women." 

"For  a  month,  perhaps,"  she  said,  shrugging  her 
shoulders  derisively.  "Who  ever  knew  you  to  be 
constant  longer?" 

In  the  laugh  at  Cardiff,  Jack  rose  abruptly. 

"I  see  Ezra  on  the  lawn,  Aunt  Tabitha.  I  had 
best  speak  to  him  about  the  fences  upon  which  they 


86  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

should  have  begun  work  this  morning.  I — I  was 
engaged  then,  but  if  thee  will  excuse  me — 

She  bent  her  head  collectively  to  the  others,  and 
disappeared.  Aunt  Tabitha  did  not  quite  compre 
hend,  for  she  looked  questioningly  over  her  specta 
cles  in  the  direction  she  had  gone. 

"Oh,  it's  for  me  Jack  would  like  to  build  fences, 
Aunt  Tabitha,"  said  Susanne,  laughingly.  "She 
thinks  my  speech  of  wagers  and  of  love  affairs  inde 
corous.  What — what  shall  you  do  to  kill  time  if 
neither  games  nor  the  sentiments  may  be  discussed  ? 
Is  there  any  other  thing  left  for  women  on  a 
farm?" 

"Jaqcynthia  has  her  garden  and  her  books  and 
her  needlework,"  remarked  Aunt  Tabitha,  placidly. 
"She  has  never  found  time  hang  heavily,  I  hope." 

"Not  this  last  day  and  night,  I  promise  you," 
declared  Dorothy.  "Why,  I  am  just  back  from  the 
city,  and  Jack's  experiences  last  night  would  turn 
even  me  giddy — a  big  lot  too  giddy  to  remember 
farm  fences." 

"I  know  something  of  fences  myself,"  observed 
Mr.  Cardiff,  rising.  "I  wonder  if  I  could  be  of 
service  to  Miss  Marquand?" 

He  heard  Susanne 's  light  ripple  of  laughter  as  he 
crossed  the  veranda. 

"Trust  Dick  to  always  be  able  to  be  of  service 
when  there  is  a  novelty  in  the  case,"  she  said.  "  But, 
of  course,  as  a  Southron,  it  is  against  his  code  of  gal 
lantry  to  let  a  girl  cross  alone  even  the  dusk  of  her 
own  garden." 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  87 

But  Dorothy  remarked  the  little  note  of  vexation 
in  her  laughing  words,  and  was  jubilant  accordingly. 

She  had  wanted  Jack  to  win  in  the  white  dress, 
but  if  she  was  winning  in  spite  of  the  Quaker  gray, 
all  the  more  of  victory. 

The  slight  message  to  Ezra  was  given,  and  Jack 
sauntered  on  down  the  walk — unconscious  of  quiet 
steps  following  her. 

She  had  felt  smothered  in  there  by  the  weight  of 
Susanne's  jests  and  pretenses.  Never  before  had 
she  known  what  nerves  meant,  but  now  she  was 
frantic  to  get  away  from  the  laughing  group  and 
out  into  the  evening  air,  where  she  could  draw  deep, 
deep  breaths,  though  ever  conscious  of  a  heartache 
that  went  deeper ;  where  she  could  stretch  her  arms 
wide,  as  though  to  ward  off  the  shadows  closing  over 
her  head — shadows  more  dense  than  the  shadows 
of  the  night,  for  above  her  shone  a  few  of  the  early 
stars  in  the  blue-gray  vault,  and  in  the  dusk  of  her 
life  there  would  be  no  star's  light — not  one ! — not  one ! 

All  at  once  the  realization  of  what  it  would  mean 
to  her — all  of  her  life — came  to  her  with  over 
whelming  force.  Life  could  never  be  the  same — 
never ! 

It  would  be  desolate.  Yet  never  before  had  she 
even  thought  of  what  desolation  absolute  could  mean. 
Why  had  it  all  come  to  her  like  this— in  a  day  and  a 
night?  She  had  never,  in  any  dreams  of  hers,  pic 
tured  life  with  anyone  she  had  met.  Then  why — 
—all  in  a  moment  like  this — should  a  sense  of  lone 
liness  sweep  over  her  until  it  left  her  shaken  with 


88  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

suppressed  sobs  there  by  the  bench  under  the  cedars  ? 
No  longer  a  girl  waiting  for  the  future  with  its  possi 
ble  lover,  but  a  woman  grown  old  in  a  day,  through 
a  horror  she  must  face  and  fight  alone. 

She  had  sunk  down  on  the  bed  of  pine  needles 
heaped  by  the  winds  between  the  tree  trunks  and 
the  garden  seat. 

The  Quaker  gray  of  subdued  feelings  had  been  set 
aside  by  the  red  blood  of  the  Marquands.  It  was 
as  she  had  said  in  jest  only  yesterday — when  love's 
color  came  to  her  it  might  prove  not  the  dainty  pink 
glow  of  the  poet's  fancy,  but  the  band  of  crimson— 
the  badge  of  tragedy  and  rebellion. 

The  refugee  halted  there  in  the  shadows  for  a 
moment  as  those  sobs  came  to  his  ears,  all  the  man 
in  him  longing  to  go  forward,  to  lift  her  from  the 
ground,  to  tell  her. 

But  back  of  him  he  heard  a  door  open,  and 
Susanne's  voice  on  the  veranda;  also  Dorothy's 
guitar  giving  out  soft  harmonies. 

"Where  are  you,  Dick?"  she  called.  "We  are 
going  to  read  plays.  Bring  Jack,  and  come  in." 

He  stepped  quickly  into  another  path,  and  was 
thankful  the  moon  had  not  yet  risen.  A  few  quick 
strides  took  him  closer  to  the  veranda. 

"Very  well!"  he  called  back.  "I'll  be  in  when 
I  finish  a  cigar.  But  I've  not  found  Miss  Mar- 
quand." 

Jack  heard  the  words  from  where  she  knelt,  and 
they  brought  her  to  her  feet  in  terror. 

He  had  not  found  her — had  he  been  sent  to  find 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  89 

her?  If  so,  by  what  chance  of  fortune  had  he 
avoided  the  place  where  they  had  stood  last  night? 

She  sped  through  an  arbor — strong  and  alert  now 
at  the  first  note  of  danger,  at  the  dread  thought  that 
he  might  have  chanced  near  her,  that  he  might  think 
—oh!  he  must  be  made  to  think  any  earthly  thing 
but — the  truth! 

Gone  was  the  prostrate,  wretched  woman  under 
the  cedars,  and  in  her  stead  a  girl  with  flushed  cheeks 
and  nervous  hands  stood  before  a  mirror  and 
smoothed  quickly  her  mass  of  dark  hair — turned  in 
the  narrow  band  of  a  collar,  and  in  its  place  folded  a 
fichu  of  finest  white  silk  mull,  surplice  fashion, 
across  her  bosom.  In  its  folds  one  scarlet  rose  from  a 
window  jar  echoed  the  scarlet  of  her  lips,  and  a 
minute  later  she  had  sped  down  the  stairs  and 
entered  the  living  room — a  glowing  picture  with 
never  a  hint  of  life's  shadows  flung  across  it. 

"Why,  Jack!"  breathed  Dorothy,  ecstatically. 
This  was  the  Jack  she  wanted  Cardiff  and  Mistress 
Mintern  to  see — this  creature  of  form  and  color, 
not  the  gray  mouse  her  cousin  had  called  her  numer 
ous  times  during  the  day. 

There  was  nothing  of  the  gray  mouse  about  her 
now ;  the  gray  of  the  dress  was  only  the  background 
for  the  wonderful  face  above  the  white  kerchief, 
and  the  wonderful  eyes,  with  the  new,  half  appeal 
ing,  half  defiant  expression,  bewildering  even  Doro 
thy,  who  saw  her  suddenly  from  a  new  point  of  view. 

For  the  first  time  Jack  Marquand  looked  to  her 
altogether  proud;  the  pride  gathered  up  because 


90  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

for  the  first  time  in  her  life  Jack  Marquand  had  a 
hurt  to  hide,  a  humiliation  to  put  under  foot. 

"Friend  Cardiff  went  to  seek  thee,  Jack,"  re 
marked  Tabitha. 

"I  came  from  upstairs,"  answered  Jack.  "I 
brought  thy  knitting." 

"  I  fear  I  shall  leave  all  the  work  to  thee  to-night. 
Last  night  strange  doings  caused  me  to  lose  sleep, 
and  this  evening  I  leave  the  company  to  thy  care," 
said  Tabitha,  rolling  up  the  woolens  Jack  had 
brought.  "Thee  has  thy  embroidery  or  crewels  to 
put  in  thy  time  with." 

Susanne  and  Cardiff  came  in  from  the  veranda, 
the  latter  pausing  on  the  threshold  and  looking 
backward  into  the  night.  Out  there  somewhere  in 
the  shadows  was  the  girl,  the  one  girl — his  wonder 
ful  Quaker  maid ;  and  he  tossed  his  cigar  across  the 
veranda  with  a  regretful  sigh  for  the  night  left 
outside. 

Then  he  heard  Susanne 's  little,  light  laugh  with 
the  note  of  disdain  in  it. 

"Now  you  look  like  your  own  French  grand 
mother,  Jack,"  she  remarked,  "the  one  in  Aunt 
Mary's  parlor,  framed  in  the  ebony  and  gold." 

"But  I  lack  both  the  ebony  and  the  gold,"  re 
turned  Jack,  as  lightly.  "The  grandmother  in  the 
picture  holds  a  garland  of  roses,  and  I — I  have  only 
the  skeins  of  silk  and  knitting  needles." 

He  had  never  heard  her  speak  in  that  gay,  care 
less  manner;  he  had  never  before  seen  her  with  her 
head  thrown  back,  smiling  defiance  to  smiling  disdain ; 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  91 

and  he  saw  Mrs.  Mintern  open  her  eyes  a  trifle 
wider  at  the  challenge.  He  felt  something  of 
Susanne's  own  surprise  when  Jack  looked  carelessly 
past  her  cousin  and  let  her  eyes  for  the  first  time  since 
he  entered  the  house  rest  squarely,  indifferently  on 
his  own  face. 

"The  skeins  of  silk  are  no  less  dainty  in  colors," 
he  said,  crossing  over  to  her,  "and  you  lack  not 
entirely  the  roses." 

He  motioned  to  the  rose,  crimson  against  the 
white  mull,  but  his  eyes  met  hers  as  he  drew  a  chair 
beside  her  workbasket,  and  the  roses  in  her  cheeks 
deepened  ever  so  slightly  to  give  point  to  his 
words. 

Dorothy  and  Kirkley,  tuning  the  guitar  together, 
found  each  other's  hands  for  a  quick  pressure  of 
appreciation ;  that  is,  Dorothy  made  the  initial 
movement  in  her  jubilation  over  Mr.  Cardiff's 
devoted  attitude,  and  Rob  was  ever  willing  to  second 
such  overtures  from  her. 

"What  is  it  to  be,  music  or  plays?"  asked  Mrs. 
Mintern,  seating  herself  in  a  great  mahogany  chair 
as  on  a  throne.  "I  am  to  be  the  audience.  Will 
you  two" — to  the  couple  with  the  guitar — "sing  or 
read?  Or  will  you  two" — ironically,  to  the  couple 
by  the  workbasket — "give  us  a  dance?" 

She  had  no  idea  of  a  dance  in  that  sedate  house 
hold.  The  mere  suggestion  was  made  with  the 
mischievous  idea  of  shocking  Jack  back  into  the 
prim,  gray  Quakeress  once  more.  But  Jack  had 
placed  her  hand  to  the  plow  to  turn  new  furrows 


92  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

in  her  life,  and  dared  not  look  back;  instead  she 
looked  forward  and  up  with  a  smile  of  concession. 

"Aunt  Tabitha  is  out  of  hearing  of  the  music, 
so  it  matters  little  which  you  choose — dancing  or 
singing,"  she  said,  carelessly. 

"Oh,  but  it  is  you  who  must  dance!"  cried  Doro 
thy.  "I  will  sing  when  my  time  comes,  but  I  will 
play  the  Varsovienne  first  for  you.  We  did  not  fin 
ish  it  yesterday.  Mr.  Cardiff  broke  our  dance  in 
two  when  he  stopped  at  the  gate;  he  must  do  pen 
ance." 

"I  shall  be  most  happy  if  it  means  I  may  dance 
with  Miss  Marquand."  He  had  risen  to  his  feet  and 
was  towering  before  her,  while  Susanne  laughed, 
and  Dorothy  struck  the  first  notes  of  her  favorite 
dance. 

"I  am  but  an  indifferent  dancer,"  said  Jack; 
"  Dorothy  has  been  my  only  teacher." 

"Oh!  oh!"  cried  that  damsel,  "and  my  teaching 
is  slighted  like  that?  I  insist  now  on  my  pupil 
doing  me  credit ;  it  is  an  old  dance." 

"Perhaps  too  old  for  Dick  to  know,"  suggested 
Mrs.  Mintern.  "He  only  cares  for  novelties." 

For  one  blank  instant  Jack  stared  at  her  cousin. 
Was  Susanne  attempting  to  cover  a  lack  in  his 
social  training?  Did  his  worldly  knowledge  stop  at 
the  door  of  a  ballroom?  Had  he  counted  on  her 
refusing  when  he  seconded  Dorothy's  suggestion? 
Had  she  blundered  where  she  meant  only  to  cover 
her  own  heartache?  She  glanced  at  him,  and, 
seeing  no  dismay  on  his  face,  felt  reassured. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  93 

"My  way  may  not  be  thy  way,"  she  said,  quietly, 
"but  I  know  only  one,  and  thee  should  be  easy  to 
teach." 

Susanne  laughed  at  that. 

"  He  will  more  likely  teach  you  more  steps  than  you 
could  ever  learn  from  Dorothy  Starr,"  she  observed, 
and  she  refused  to  dance  with  Kirkley,  that  she 
might  better  watch  the  lesson." 

But  her  anticipated  amusement  failed  to  materi 
alize,  as  the  stately  minuet-like  measures  were  trod 
by  Jack  with  as  much  of  swaying  grace,  of  delicate 
point,  as  if  she  had  always  breathed  the  air  of  ball 
rooms  instead  of  the  fields.  After  the  first  turn,  her 
fear  that  he  could  not  dance  gave  way  to  relief  in 
the  perception  that  he  could — most  admirably — and 
the  reaction  lent  an  added  glow  to  her  cheeks  and  eyes ; 
she  was  almost  happy  in  comparison  with  that  moment 
of  dread ;  for  the  real  Dick  Cardiff  would  for  a  certainty 
know  dancing  well,  if  he  knew  no  other  thing. 

And  the  pretended  Dick  was  no  less  talented. 
He  held  her  finger  tips  or  circled  lightly  her  slender 
waist  in  the  turns  of  the  dance,  and  bent  his  hand 
some  head  above  her  own  with  an  air  of  deference 
no  longer  conducive  to  Mrs.  Mintern's  amusement. 

Because  the  girl  spoke  with  the  orthodox  "thee" 
and  "thou"  and  wore  sober  gray,  should  the  man 
bend  as  if  at  a  shrine?  She  was  quite  convinced 
that  sober  gray  could  cover  as  much  of  iniquity  as 
brocades. 

Twice  Jack  circled  the  room,  alternately  pacing 
and  whirling  to  the  measures  of  the  pretty  dance, 


94  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

and  laying  her  hand  in  his  without  a  tremor.  Then 
she  had  justified  herself  to  herself,  though  she  had 
stooped,  perhaps,  to  Susanne's  own  methods  to  do 
it.  She  made  a  little  gesture  of  finality  as  they 
reached  again  the  settee  where  the  musician  was 
enthroned,  and,  swinging  herself  from  his  light 
clasp,  bent  her  head  slightly  and  sank  beside 
Dorothy. 

"Oh,  I  protest  the  lesson  is  not  half  learned," 
he  said,  as  he  bowed  before  her.  "I  shall  beg  for 
rehearsals  as  some  future  time." 

Future  time!  Back  in  her  memory  flashed  his 
avowal  of  the  day  when  he  would  come  back  to 
her — some  time — somehow! 

She  raised  clear  eyes  to  his  bravely,  but  smiled 
for  the  sake  of  other  eyes  watching. 

"Most  likely  there  will  be  no  future  rehearsals," 
she  said,  with  quiet  meaning.  "This  little  dance 
was  for  Dorothy.  I  shall  acknowledge  to  it  in  meet 
ing,  shall  be  reproved  by  the  elders,  and  shall  promise 
never  to  dance  again." 

"Oh!  We  all  protest  at  that,"  cried  Kirkley. 
"  I,  for  one,  have  been  envying  Friend  Cardiff — and 
waiting  for  my  turn." 

"Your  turn  will  come  to  read  the  plays,"  sug 
gested  Mrs.  Mintern.  "Jack  can  listen,  and  thus 
sin  passively  instead  of  actively;  she  will  not  need 
to  confess  for  a  proxy." 

"No — for  myself — when  they  are  sins,"  said  her 
cousin.  "And  I  am  quite  willing  to  listen  if  Friend 
Rob  is  willing  to  read.  What  shall  it  be?' ' 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  95 

The  volume  of  plays  lay  on  the  table,  and  Kirkley 
stood  beside  her  and  turned  the  pages,  admiring 
the  steel  engravings. 

"Here  is  the  doleful  tale  of  Juliet  to  make  you 
weep,  and  here  is  the  awful  -Macbeth  to  make  you 
shudder,  and  here — ah!  here  is  a  picture  of  Forrest 
the  great — I  saw  him  in  Washington  City  in  this — 
the  most  magnificent  Moor  one  could  imagine." 

"Ugh!"  shuddered  Mrs.  Mintern,  "it  was  awful. 
A  jealous  brute  who  smothered  his  wife,  though  she 
deserved  something  horrid  for  marrying  the  wretch." 

"He's  handsome  in  the  picture,"  observed  Doro 
thy,  "and,  of  course,  though  the  Moor  was  dark, 
he  was  not  like  our  negroes  of  this  country." 

"  But  he  had  been  bought  and  sold,  even  though 
he  had  become  a  general,"  returned  Susanne.  "So 
he  was  a  slave,  whether  he  was  white  or  black." 

Jack  rose  abruptly  and  crossed  to  the  workbasket. 

"I  can  both  work  and  listen,"  she  said,  as  she 
gathered  up  the  silks  and  sampler  frame.  Her 
hands  trembled  and  she  kept  her  eyes  averted. 

"  But  you  lose  half  the  story  when  you  do  not 
see  the  pictures,"  protested  Dorothy.  "  This  one  tells 
so  much — see  where  he  talks  to  the  father,  and  Des- 
demona  listens.  I  think  I  should  have  listened,  too, 
if  he  told  such  stories  to  me — and  looked  so  much 
like  a  prince.  Here  below  the  picture  it  says: 

She  loved  him  for  the  dangers  he  had  passed. 

And  Dick  Cardiff,  reading  over  Dorothy's  shoulder, 
glanced  up  to  meet  Jack's  eyes,  as  he  added: 

And  he  loved  her  that  she  did  pity  him. 


96  MY  QUAKER  MAID 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Mintern  had  watched  Jack 
leave  on  horseback  for  the  far  fences  soon  after  the 
sun  rose,  and  for  once  exerted  herself  to  dress  quickly, 
and  throw  a  slipper  at  Phebe's  head  because  the 
little  maid  was  not  prepared  for  the  toilet  at  that 
unheard-of  hour,  and  was  sleeping  when  called. 

"Mh — h!  Who  did  ever  heah  o'  her  getten'  up 
at  field  hand  time  befo'?"  she  asked  Nat,  later,  in 
their  private  conference  down  by  the  milk  house. 
"She's  notionate  enough  at  the  best  o'  times,  but 
she  certainly  is  wuss  than  evar  these  days.  You 
scared  'count  o'  her  meeten'  up  with  your  mahstah 
heah?  Shucks!  yd1  all  safe!  Mahs  Mintern  is  like 
enough  to  kill  both  o'  them,  an'  sell  me  down  South, 
when  he  finds  us  heah ;  but  he  ain't  likely  to  touch 
a  har  o'  you.  No,  sah !  yo'  got  no  bad  luck  comen' — 
'cept  to  lose  me." 

But  little  did  her  mistress  consider  the  fears  of 
the  two  slaves,  as  she  leaned  forward  on  the  dress 
ing  table  and  scrutinized  her  own  face  carefully, 
while  Phebe  brushed  her  hair  until  it  shone  like 
satin. 

She  was  comparing,  point  by  point,  her  own 
equipment  of  feminine  charms  with  those  of  that 
overgrown  schoolgirl  who,  with  scarcely  a  word  or 
glance  at  Dick  Cardiff,  had  yet  held  every  thought 
of  his  the  evening  before. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  97 

There  was  no  doubt  of  that  in  Susanne's  mind. 
She  was  not  deceived  by  his  cleverness,  by  his 
small  talk  to  the  others,  and  his  avoidance  of  pointed 
attention  to  the  girl,  who — Susanne  could  see- 
never  addressed  him,  and  scarcely  lifted  her  eyes 
from  her  endless  work  of  silks  and  patterns. 

No,  it  was  the  feeling  in  the  air  of  all  that  was 
repressed  between  these  two,  for  Susanne  quickly 
discovered  that  Jack  was  quite  aware  of  Cardiff's 
feeling  for  herself. 

Jack's  indifference  was  the  one  thing  puzzling  to 
her.  Was  that  pretense,  or  was  she  honestly  care 
less  of  the  attention  other  women  thought  a  mark 
of  distinction?  There  was  time  enough  for  that 
to  be  investigated  in  other  days;  just  now — while 
Jack  was  away — she  might  get  some  definite  word 
from  Cardiff  as  to  his  intentions;  all  the  previous 
day  she  had  striven  in  vain  for  such  an  interview. 

Phebe  carried  the  message  to  Nat,  and  she  and 
Nat  exchanged  solemn  sighs  and  head  shakings  over 
it  before  it  passed  on  and  up  to  Mr.  Cardiff.  He, 
too,  had  caught  sight  of  Jack  Marquand  with  the 
rising  sun  on  her  face  as  she  galloped  past  the  south 
garden,  and  then  on  across  the  rolling  meadows 
where  the  dandelions  were  gemming  the  early  green. 

A  fragment  of  song  returned  to  him  as  the  hoof- 
beats  died  away,  and  his  eyes  followed  her:  "Ride 
light,  for  my  heart  is  under  your  feet,  love." 

He  was  conscious  that  the  word  in  the  song  was 
"dance"  light,  instead  of  "ride"  light;  his  heart 
was  under  her  feet,  wherever  fortune  carried  her. 


98  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

How  wildly  proud  she  had  been  when  she  faced  him 
the  night  before  with  bright  eyes  and  defiant  lips; 
daring  him  to  fancy  she  had  wept  for  one  moment 
under  the  cedars — and,  above  all,  had  wept  for  him ! 
Yet  he  knew — he  knew — and  his  eyes  were  tender 
as  though  with  tears  when  she  rode  from  his  sight 
through  a  belt  of  willows. 

"My  Quaker  maid! — my  Quaker  maid!"  he 
whispered,  softly.  "It  is  the  most  cruel  thing  a 
man  ever  did  to  the  one  woman ;  but  all  my  life  shall 
make  up  for  it." 

With  this  self -consoling  promise  on  his  lips,  he 
turned  in  answer  to  Nat's  knock  at  the  door  and 
received  Mrs.  Mintern's  message — -in  return  for 
which  Nat  received  language  against  which  he  shut 
the  door  and  held  on  to  the  knob  outside. 

"  'Fore  Gord,  it's  no  fault  o'  mine,  Mahs  Dick!" 
he  protested.  "  I  did  say  I  reckoned  you  not  awake 
yet.  But  no  use  in  me  lyen'  to  that  Phebe  gal;  so 
what  am  I  to  do?  Ef  yo'  all  done  listen  yesterday 
to  Mahs  Kirkley  an'  me — an'  clar  out  o'  this  trap— 
you'd  'a  been— 

"Clear  out  yourself,  or  I'll  come  to  that  door  to 
you!"  called  Mr.  Cardiff.  Nat  attempted  again  to 
protest,  but  as  he  heard  steps  cross  the  room  he  fled ; 
and  when  his  master  reached  the  hall  it  was  empty. 

When  he  entered  the  living  room  in  answer  to  the 
note,  he  fancied  it  was  also  empty ;  and  then  from  a 
high-backed  chair  by  the  fireplace  Mrs.  Mintern 
turned,  and,  regarding  him  with  a  much  subdued 
manner,  spoke  with  a  little  preliminary  sigh. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  99 

Susanne,  in  a  role  of  meekness,  made  him  open 
his  eyes  slightly ;  if  there  was  an  inclination  to  smile, 
she  did  not  perceive  it. 

"You  may  as  well  sit  down,  Dick,"  she  observed. 
"Jack  has  gone  riding,  and  Dorothy  has  agreed  to 
keep  the  others  away  from  here  while  we  have  a 
little  conversation ;  yesterday  it  was  not  possible, 
but  now — well,  you  realize,  of  course,  that  things 
can't  go  on  this  way." 

"This  way?" 

"Oh,  don't  pretend!  You  know  what  I  mean. 
I  am  so  much  distracted  over  it  all — -really,  Dick! 
Why,  I  scarcely  slept  last  night  for  dread  of  what 
would  happen  if  Peter  learned  you  were  here.  You 
must  have  some  consideration;  I  have  sent  for  you 
to  urge  that,  and  you  must  make  some  excuse  and 
go  away,  for  you  never  meant  what  you  said  yester 
day — you  surely  intend  to  go." 

"Have  not  changed  my  mind  a  particle  on  that 
question,  my  dear  lady,"  he  returned,  coolly.  "I 
have  business  here.  I  told  you  yesterday  I  rode 
out  of  your  way  once;  I  can't  do  it  this  time." 

"Is  that  girl  the  lodestar?"  she  demanded,  sud 
denly  dropping  her  little  air  of  appeal.  "Don't 
think  I  was  blind  last  night.  Are  you  on  the  trail 
for  a  pot  of  Quaker  gold?" 

"I  really  have  not  an  idea  whether  there  is  a 
penny  in  the  pot,  Susanne,"  he  confessed.  "Few 
men  would  care." 

"Ah!  is  it  so  bad  as  that?"  she  said,  and  smiled 
without  mirth.  "You'd  better  let  it  alone,  Dick. 


ioo  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

Don't  forget  that  your  uncle  will  certainly  think  it 
his  duty  to  warn  Noah  Marquand — even  if  I  should 
not  interfere." 

"You?" 

"After  all,  Jack's  my  cousin — it  might  be  my 
duty,"  she  said,  watching  him  narrowly. 

"Since  when  have  duties  been  so  appealing  to  you?" 
he  asked .  ' '  And  how  is  your  guest,  the  captain  ? ' ' 

Her  face  flushed  angrily. 

"You're  a  brute!"  she  burst  out.  "You're  a 
regular  dog  in  the  manger.  And  you're  wrong, 
too;  there  was  no  need  to  shoot  the  man — I  never 
meant  to  go — I  never  did!"  she  repeated,  vehe 
mently.  "You  might  have  seen  I  only  used  him 
to  keep  the  others  off,  or — jealous!" 

"Mm — m!  his  fitting  out  the  yacht  for  a  long 
cruise,  and  the  meeting  in  the  arbor,  were  to  make 
which  of  them  jealous?" 

"  I  tell  you,  you're  wrong!  The  man  did  frighten 
me  a  little,  and  I  did  go  there  to  talk;  but — he— 
the  man  is  a  fool!  I'll  never,  never  speak  to  him 
again!  I've  done  with  him!" 

"Because  he  failed?"  asked  Cardiff,  smiling. 

"I  said  before  that  you  were  a  brute!"  she  re 
peated.  "If  you  had  not  been,  you  might  have 
prevented  it  in  other  ways.  You  need  not  have 
shot  the  man  to  get  rid  of  him." 

"Oh!"  and  he  smiled,  grimly.  "I  might  have 
helped  you  keep  the  other  men  off?  Well,  Susanne, 
I  got  the  credit  of  it  from  your  husband — so  what's 
the  difference?" 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  101 

"Peter's  a  fool — and  you're  another!"  she  ex 
claimed,  disgustedly.  "Do  you  want  to  know  why 
I  left?  No,  I  suppose  not.  But  I'll  tell  you; 
maybe  that  will  convince  you !  Peter  is  nursing  the 
captain  as  if  he  were  his  own  dearest  brother,  and 
that  is  not  all.  I — I  had  to  tell  that  about  the  kid 
naping.  I  had  to  tell  something.  But  Peter  never 
lets  go  for  a  moment  of  the  notion  that  Captain 
Gleason  perhaps  saved  my  life  and  his  honor.  Oh! 
you  needn't  laugh — it's  awful!  But  when  Peter 
almost  drove  me  in  to  help  nurse  his  benefactor, 
that  was  when  we  had  the  big  quarrel ;  and  he  wanted 
to  separate,  and  I  came  here.  He's  likely  to  follow, 
of  course.  I  did  not  hide  where  I  was  going.  He'll 
know  I'm  serious  when  I  come  to  the  Marquands. 
But  he's  nursing  Captain  Gleason  so  that  if  the  man 
is  found  the  captain  can  identify  him.  He  thinks  I 
am  shielding  him,  and  that  the  dear  captain  is  his 
one  friend — so  you  see!" 

"Yes,  I  see  you  have  made  a  nice  muddle  of 
things  with  your  romances;  and  if  Gleason  should 
tell—" 

"I  told  him  I'd  murder  him  if  he  did!"  she  ex 
claimed.  "That  was  my  good-bye  to  the  idiot." 

"That's  a  good  way  to  get  rid  of  him,"  he 
remarked.  "  Do  you  suppose,  Susanne,  if  there 
had  not  been  a  wholesome  lot  of  money  settled  on 
you  in  your  own  right,  that  that  pink-and-white 
rat  would  have  risked  so  much?" 

"  Oh,  you  need  not  suppose  there  is  no  man  who — 
And  then  her  petulance  faded,  and  she  looked  at  him 


102  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

steadily:  "Did  you  and  Peter  quarrel  the  night 
before  you  left?  Phebe  told  me." 

"We  did,"  he  said,  quietly. 

"About  me?" 

"Your  husband  can  tell  you  the  reason  if  he 
wishes  you  to  know  it." 

"That  is  just  what  worries  me.  He  has  not 
mentioned  it  at  all — never  hinted  at  it.  I  know 
it  was  about  me,  and  his  silence  means  more  than 
his  words.  Captain  Gleason  hates  you — as  he 
should — and  the  two  together,  if  they  should  learn 
that  you  are  here — 

"You  mean  if  they  should  know  you  are,"  he 
corrected  her.  "I  came  first;  you  have  your  town 
house,"  he  added,  suggestively,  "and  a  host  of 
friends  to  cheer  your  waiting  days." 

"I  tell  you  I  won't — and  I  won't — and  I  won't!" 
she  cried,  vehemently.  "You  are  the  one  to  go. 
Jack  would  say  so  if  she  knew  even  that  you  and 
Peter  had  quarreled.  Oh!  you'll  find  that  you  have 
to  study  the  proprieties  with  Jack  Marquand,  and 
you  won't  like  that." 

"You  are  scarcely  a  fair  judge,"  he  returned, 
with  a  little  irritating  smile  at  which  her  face  flushed 
angrily. 

"You  seem  very  sure  of  yourself  here,"  she  said, 
maliciously;  "as  usual,  your  rent  roll  commands 
attention.  Ah!" — as  his  face  flushed — "you  really 
fancied  because  she  is  of  the  country  that  rent  rolls 
don't  count.  But  as  I  told  you  last  night,  they  do, 
my  dear  boy.  You're  handsome  enough,  Dick; 


103 

but  that  won't  count  with  the  Marquands.  They 
have  always  married  money — they've  all  got  the 
Quaker  thrift,  and  Jack  will  marry  money  or  not 
marry.  But  that  ought  to  make  it  easy  for  you," 
she  added,  maliciously. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  want  things  made  easy  by 
that  means,"  he  said,  slowly,  "though,  of  course, 
you  mean  the  suggestion  kindly." 

"I'll  not  have  you  sneer  at  me  in  that  way, 
Dick,"  she  burst  out,  angrily.  "You're  the  only 
man  \vho  dares— and  you  know  it!  And  I'll  not 
leave  you  alone  here  writh  that  girl — never!  Let 
them  follow  me— let  them  find  us  here  together. 
Let  Peter  Mintern  get  a  divorce  as  he  threatens. 
You'll  be  in  it  if  he  does.  But  I'll  stay  here— I'll 
stay  here  as  long  as  you  dare  stay!" 

She  was  growing  half  hysterical  with  temper, 
and  as  she  came  close  to  him  with  hand  raised  in 
wild  emphasis,  Mr.  Cardiff  suddenly  took  Mrs.  Min 
tern  by  the  shoulders  and  lifted  her  bodily  into  the 
chair  she  had  vacated. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  you'll  do,"  he  said,  quietly. 
"You'll  receive  a  telegram  from  your  husband 
to-day,  and  it  will  call  you  back  to  Baltimore,  and 
—you'll  go!" 

"  I ! "     She  stared  at  him  in  breathless  indignation. 

"You'll  go!  You  are  threatening  to  use  influ 
ence  with  Mr.  Marquand,  which  I  can't  permit;  it 
is  not  a  fair  fight.  You  let  me  alone,  and  I  let  you 
go  free,  Susanne;  but  if  not  I'll  have  to  use  rather 
unpleasant  means." 


104  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"You  mean  you'll— tell?" 

"I  mean  that  if  you  or  your  husband  tries  to 
incriminate  me,  I'll  clear  myself  if  I  have  to  use 
Captain  Gleason's  evidence  to  do  it." 

"Just  as  if  he  would  give  it!" 

"Well,  he  could  make  a  choice  in  the  matter," 
conceded  Mr.  Cardiff,  "and  also  have  choice  of 
weapons." 

"You  mean  you  would  fight  him?" 

"That  is  for  you — and  Captain  Gleason — to 
choose." 

She  stared  into  the  dwindling  flames  of  the  morn 
ing's  fire  for  a  space,  while  the  man  watched  her 
quietly.  A  duel — for  her!  One  man  was  enough 
to  know  what  Dick  and  the  captain  knew — each 
was  a  good  shot — the  question  would  be  settled 
once  for  all  when  that  was  over — no  one  would  be 
the  wiser  then;  whichever  one  was  left  could  prove 
nothing — it  would  not  be  so  bad;  and  to  be  the 
cause  of  a  real  duel  was  more  romantic  than  a  false 
kidnaping.  It  seemed  really  the  best  way  out; 
but,  of  course — 

"Susanne,"  continued  her  adversary,  after  a  long 
pause,  "you  will  have  to  recollect  one  thing  in  your 
choice — both  you  and  Captain  Gleason.  If  he  pre 
fers  to  fight  I  shall  arrange  that  Peter  Mintern 
shall  know  the  rather  peculiar  cause  of  the  meeting. 
No  more  blindfold  games  with  me  in  it.  You've 
just  shown  me  how  risky  it  is.  I'm  beginning  to 
value  my  reputation,  and  I  might  as  well  begin  now." 

"Yes — by  trying  to  ruin  mine!"   she  retorted. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  105 

"A  fine,  manly,  chivalrous  thing  to  do!  Oh,  the 
girls  who  have  made  a  hero  of  you  should  know 
this!" 

"No  use,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head  and  smiling 
at  her.  "  No  one  is  trying  to  hurt  you  in  the  least. 
When  you  get  that  telegram,  you  make  excuses 
and  go  back  to  Baltimore.  If  you  are  sensible  you 
will  make  up  with  your  husband,  and  all  will  be  as 
it  should  be.  You  have  the  game  in  your  own  hands, 
but  you  must  decide  right  here  and  now  what  you 
are  going  to  do  with  it." 

Her  eyes  moved  restlessly  from  one  point  to  an 
other  on  the  floor,  as  if  vainly  seeking  a  way  out 
of  a  trap,  and  then  she  raised  them  squarely  to  his. 

"You're  a  brute,  Dick  Cardiff;  and  if  it  was  not 
for  hurting  my  own  name  I'd  let  Gleason  kill  you 
and  love  him  all  the  rest  of  my  life  for  it.  I  despise 
him  now  and  you  know  it,  but  I  could  love  him  for 
that — just  for  killing  you!" 

"Yes — I  understand,"  he  said,  sympathetically. 
"Shall  I  send  the  telegram?" 

"Yes,  you  may  send  it,"  she  replied,  angrily. 
"  I  wish  it  was  an  order  for  your  coffin,  Dick  Cardiff! 
I  would  cover  miles  on  my  knees  to  see  you  put 
underground!" 

She  had  her  hand  on  the  knob  as  she  spoke,  and 
unconsciously  had  opened  the  door  a  trifle.  He 
made  a  little  gesture  of  indifference,  bowed  slightly, 
and  passed  through  the  other  door  to  the  veranda, 
leaving  her  standing  there  rigid  with  fury — help 
less  in  her  own  trap. 


io6  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

She  stood  there  for  several  minutes,  her  hand  on 
the  door;  but  her  back  to  it  as  she  watched  her 
adversary  cross  the  lawn  toward  the  stables,  striv 
ing — striving  with  all  her  might — to  think  of  some 
move  in  the  game  by  which  she  might  even  now 
checkmate  him. 

Neither  of  them  had  seen  the  girl  in  the  riding 
habit  who  had  stood  an  instant  in  the  hall  just  out 
side  that  slightly  open  door,  whose  own  hand  hold 
ing  a  telegram  had  been  outstretched  to  open  the 
door  wider  when  Susanne's  words,  "  I  wish  it  was 
an  order  for  your  coffin,  Dick  Cardiff — I  would 
cover  miles  on  my  knees  to  see  you  put  under 
ground!"  had  come  to  her  ears  with  stunning  force. 

Dick  Cardiff!  Susanne  had  called  him  that  in 
tones  of  concentrated  fury.  Susanne!  Then  he 
was  Dick  Cardiff!  Like  a  flash  the  whole  truth 
came  to  her — this  was  the  man!  All  Dorothy's 
wild  romances  ranged  back  into  her  mind — her 
theory  that  Dick  Cardiff  was  the  one  gallant  not 
at  Mrs.  Mintern's  feet! 

She  turned  dizzily  and  grasped  for  the  oak  rail 
ings  of  the  staircase,  up  which  she  crept  like  a  crimi 
nal,  lest  they  hear  her. 

Ah!  but  he  was  at  her  feet;  it  was  he  who  had 
been  the  hero  of  that  adventure  at  Bayside;  it  was 
for  that  he  had  ridden  like  a  runaway  across  the  line ! 

She  could  read  the  whole  shameful  story  now. 
Susanne  had  used  her  father's  house  as  a  rendezvous 
to  meet  the  man  who  had  shot  another  one  for  her 
sake — that  was  how  the  bullet  burn  had  touched 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  107 

his  wrist.  And  he  had  pretended  to  be  a  runaway 
slave — willing  to  pretend  anything,  even  love  for 
herself,  if  by  that  pretense  he  could  remain  there, 
unsuspected,  to  wait  for  the  woman  who  was  to 
follow  him. 

They  had  quarreled  about  something  and  Susanne 
had  wished  him  dead;  but  what — what  did  that 
matter  ? 

The  barrier  between  them  before  had  seemed  to 
her  aching  girl's  heart  a  thing  tragic,  awful,  insur 
mountable  ;  yet  above  and  beyond  all  that  had  been 
the  illumination  of  a  life,  the  tragedy  of  it.  The 
absolute  sacrifice  demanded  had  in  a  way  strength 
ened  her  with  a  sort  of  exaltation  to  meet  demands 
required  of  her ;  but  this — 

It  was  mean,  low,  disgraceful!  A  degrading 
intrigue  with  his  uncle's  wife,  and  his  shameful  use 
of  her  help  to  continue  it.  Fool!  Fool! 

She  flung  herself  on  her  bed,  face  downward; 
sick,  shuddering  with  disgust  of  them  both,  of  her 
self,  and,  above  all,  for  this  ache  in  her  heart  which 
all  her  scorn  could  not  smother. 

She  lost  all  idea  of  time  as  she  lay  there.  No  one 
came  near  her.  No  one  had  known  of  her  return. 
On  meeting  a  man  with  a  telegram  for  Mrs.  Mintern 
she  had  cut  short  her  visit  to  the  fence  building, 
taken  the  message,  and  had  ridden  across  the  fields 
straight  home.  Her  nag  had  walked  into  her  own 
stall,  and  Jack  had  gone  as  directly  to  Susanne 's 
room,  when  she  was  checked  in  the  hall  by  Susanne's 
voice,  and  after  that — chaos! 


io8  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

She  heard  light  steps  and  lighter  laughter  on  the 
veranda  and  the  lawn  below.  Dorothy  and  Rob 
were  taking  Mrs.  Mintern  for  a  drive  over  the  coun 
try.  She  heard  Dorothy  call  to  Tabitha  that  maybe 
they  would  find  Jack  in  their  travels,  and  she  crowded 
deeper  into  the  pillows,  and  was  thankful — thank 
ful  that  no  one  knew  she  was  home. 

She  had  not  heard  his  voice  among  the  others, 
but  supposed  that  he  was  at  his  lady's  chariot 
wheels,  waiting  for  the  moment  when  she  might 
smile  again. 

Then,  after  long  hours  of  fruitless  thinking, 
she  heard  the  field  bell  rung  for  the  men  on  the 
farther  plantations,  and  realized  that  the  noon 
hour  was  near,  and — the  wanderers. 

She  must  meet  them  some  way.  For  a  little 
longer  she  must  make  pretense,  and  dared  not  con 
sider  her  own  feelings.  She  had  been  left  in  charge 
by  Noah  Marquand,  and  no  family  disgrace  must 
go  abroad  from  his  house.  So  long  as  Dorothy  and 
Rob  were  there  no  unpleasant  scene  must  be  allowed ; 
but  privately  she  would  tell  Susanne. 

Then  as  she  arose  from  the  bed  an  envelope 
slipped  to  the  floor — Susanne's  telegram — the  one 
she  had  ridden  so  fast  to  deliver,  had  held  in  her 
hand  as  she  walked  away  from  that  door,  and  had 
forgotten  utterly. 

She  stared  at  it  in  dismay.  In  the  light  of  these 
late,  awful  revelations  it  could  but  mean  but  one 
thing ;  it  must  be,  it  could  only  be  from  the  husband ! 
Who  else  would  follow  her  with  telegrams? 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  109 

Jack's  heart  stood  still  as  she  thought  of  one 
thing  it  might  mean.  No  telegram  had  ever  reached 
the  house  of  the  Marquand's  except  to  announce 
a  death;  and  if  it  came  from  the  husband,  might 
it  not  announce  the  same  thing — the  death  of  the 
man  who  had  saved  Susanne  from  disgrace — whom 
Dick  Cardiff  had  shot?  And  if — if  the  worst  had 
come,  Dick  Cardiff  was  a  murderer! 

"Oh,  he  must  go  now;  he  must  go — must  go!" 
she  breathed  incoherently,  as  she  cast  aside  the 
riding  dress  and  found  hurriedly  the  Quaker  gray 
of  Susanne 's  derision.  With  trembling  hands  she 
fastened  it,  listening  each  instant  for  the  return  of 
the  wheels. 

None  came.  She  descended  the  stairs  quietly; 
no  one  knew  she  was  in  the  house,  and  she  wished 
to  avoid  all  the  little  household  affairs  for  which 
Aunt  Tabitha  would  want  her  atteniton,  all  the 
questions  apart  from  the  one  great  question,  until 
Susanne's  return — until  the  worst  should  be  known, 
the  awful  thing  by  which  the  supreme  horror  should 
be  added  to  those  awful  days  and  nights. 

She  held  the  telegram  in  her  hand  and  slipped 
down  the  back  stairs  to  that  entrance  to  the  garden 
where  she  had  led  him  to  safety  on  that  first  wild 
night,  which,  to  look  back  upon  now,  seemed  almost 
beautiful.  At  least  the  emotions  of  it,  despite  that 
tragic  barrier,  had  nothing  of  the  coarse  horror  with 
which  he  and  Susanne  had  since  colored  her  thoughts. 

At  the  far  corner  of  the  garden  was  an  arbor  of 
evergreen  roofed  in  summer  by  blossoming  rose 


no  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

vines.  The  vines  were  bare  now,  but  for  tiny 
swelling  buds  where  the  leaves  would  soon  be;  but 
one  could  at  least  be  hidden  there  from  curious 
eyes,  and  from  there  she  could  first  hear  the  sounds 
of  returning  wheels. 

Her  eyes,  heavy  with  unshed  tears,  were  on  the 
ground.  When — when  would  Jack  Marquand  ever 
dare  lift  her  eyes  again  and  look  the  world  in  the 
face  ?  All  her  life  of  blamelessness  counted  for  noth 
ing  now  when  facing  the  shame  of  remembrance  of 
how  he  had  looked  in  her  eyes  and  made  that  avowal 
the  night  before:  "And  he  loved  her  that  she  did 
pity  them!" 

Had  he  knelt  at  her  feet  to  make  the  confession, 
it  had  not  thrilled  to  the  heart  of  her  more  certainly ; 
and  he  had  known  it — known  it! 

All  her  attempts  at  deception  had  been  useless; 
the  triumph  in  his  eyes  had  caressed  her  as  surely 
as  though  his  lips  had  touched  her  hands.  She 
tingled  with  shame  as  the  certainty  of  that  knowl 
edge  had  come  to  her  and  she  lived  again  the  sleep 
less  hours  of  the  night. 

And  then  she  moved  into  the  shadows  of  the 
high,  hedged  arbor,  and  met  him  face  to  face!  He 
with  both  triumph  and  pleading  in  his  eyes,  and 
she  with  the  shamed  tears  in  hers. 

For  an  instant  she  stared  at  him,  her  head  thrown 
back  in  defiance  of  all  he  dared  dream  that  he  knew ; 
then  she  turned,  with  a  little  repellent  gesture,  out 
into  the  sunshine  again. 

But  he  caught  her  hand  and  held  it  in  both  of  his. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  in 

"Listen  to  me  if  only  one  minute!"  he  begged. 
"  I  meant  not  to  tell  you  the  truth  just  yet;  it  was 
only  a  lover's  foolish  fancy  to  test  what  she  said 
last  night — I  mean  Susanne.  But  it  was  cowardly 
—cowardly!  And  I  am  at  your  feet  in  my  repent 
ance.  You  sweetest  woman  on  earth!  it  was  my 
own  name  you  gave  me  to  masquerade  in  when 
you  thought  you  were  hiding  a  runaway  slave. 
Now  will  you  understand?  —  now  will  you  listen 
to  me?" 

"Will  thee  please  to  let  go  my  hand?"  she  said, 
clearly.  "Yes,  I  understand  thee  very  well  now — 
very  well,  indeed!  Thee  has  chosen  my  father's 
house  to  flee  to  from  the  house  of  Peter  Mintern; 
and  thee  would  even  profess  affection  for  my  father's 
daughter,  that  she  might  shield  thee  until  the  com 
ing  of  Peter  Mintern 's  wife." 

"Jack!"  he  cried,  in  amazed  protest. 

"Thee  sees  now  how  well  I  understand,"  she  con 
tinued  in  the  low,  even  tone,  in  which  there  was  no 
tremor  as  she  arraigned  him.  "That  thee  has 
quarreled  bitterly  here  with  Susanne  does  not 
change  the  fact  that  it  was  thee  and  no  other  whom 
Peter  Mintern 's  friend  shot  at  to  defend  Peter 
Mintern's  wife.  It  is  for  thee  that  offer  of  reward 
is  posted  over  walls  and  fences;  and  by  this  time 
it  may  be  doubled  by  the  State.  This  message  to 
Mrs.  Mintern  may  tell  of  the  man's  death.  Thee 
sees  now  how  well  I  understand  at  last,  and  how 
wise  it  will  be  for  thee  to  ride  on  to  the  North 
quickly." 


ii2  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

The  tears  were  gone  from  her  eyes  now,  burned 
out  by  her  disdain,  and  she  looked  at  him  squarely, 
as  she  had  looked  across  the  room  at  him  last  night, 
haughtily  and  indifferently. 

He  stared  from  her  face  to  the  telegram  she  held 
in  her  hand.  The  color  surged  hotly  into  his  face 
at  her  cold  accusation,  and  then  receded,  leaving 
him  rather  white,  and  his  lips  set  stubbornly. 

"I  shan't  leave  here  until  I  speak  with  your 
father,"  he  said,  deliberately.  "I  see  she  has  been 
talking  to  you,  and  you  take  her  word  against  me. 
I  can't  blame  you  for  that  as  things  stand;  yet — 
ah! — my  one  woman — my  Quaker  maid! — trust  me 
just  a  little  until  your  father  comes.  I  adore  you — 
can't  you  see  that,  Jack?  Don't  you  know  I  will 
make  a  wreck  of  their  lies — or  their  lives — before 
I  will  let  that  man  or  that  woman  stand  between 
you  and  me?" 

"Thee  will  please  to  let  my  name  be  outside  of 
thy  affairs,"  she  said  coldly.  "  I  do  perceive  plainly 
how  willing  thee  is  to  make  wreck  of  people's  lives. 
And  this,"  she  added,  holding  out  the  telegram, 
"doubtless  tells  of  the  end  of  one  of  the  wrecks — 
the  man  thou  hast  shot." 

"You  got  that — where?"  he  asked,  wonderingly. 
He  had  not  thought  it  possible  for  Nat  to  manage 
that  telegram  so  quickly,  since  he  must  ride  to  the 
station  for  a  strange  messenger. 

"I  met  the  man  when  out  riding,  and  received 
the  message,"  she  returned,  coldly.  "As  Mrs. 
Mintern  is  not  here,  I  can  only  suggest  to  thee  what 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  113 

I  fear  may  be  its  contents,  and  advise  thee  to  leave 
as  quickly  as  possible." 

"I  told  you  once  that  I  would  ride  either  north 
or  south  at  your  word.  But  this  is  more  than  merely 
a  question  of  life  and  death  to  me  now — it  is  per 
haps  a  chance  for  hope  and  happiness.  I  shall 
stay  now,  though  you  bid  me  go,  though  you  refuse 
to  even  look  at  me  or  speak  to  me.  Can't  you  see, 
can't  you  understand,  that  the  more  bitter  you 
are,  the  more  am  I  bound  to  prove  the  truth  to  you 
—or  to  your  father?  Jack,  if  he  is  assured  I  am 
honest,  can't  you  trust  me?" 

"Not  though  thee  affirm  it  with  all  the  list  of 
words  thee  has  stolen  from  dead  poets  to  gild  thy 
falsehoods  with!"  she  said,  coldly,  and  left  him 
standing  there. 

When  the  party  returned  a  little  later  from  their 
drive,  Rob  Kirkley  found  Cardiff  tramping  back 
and  forth  along  the  cedar  avenue,  in  a  mood  of 
wrath  incomprehensible  to  that  gentleman. 

"No,  I'm  not  going!"  he  stated,  emphatically, 
in  reply  to  Rob's  inquiry.  "I'll  stay  here  till  the 
inferno  freezes  over  before  I'll  be  driven  out  by  her 
lies — or  his  either!" 

"Hers?     His?" 

"She  knows  all  about  it,  Rob — all — and  a  devil 
of  a  sight  more!  If  I  had  Gleason  here  now,  I'd  kill 
him  good  and  dead  for  putting  me  in  this  hole.  And 
she  won't  believe  a  word  I  say,  Rob — not  a  word!" 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  Dick,  who  are  you  raving 
about? — your  grandaunt?" 

8 


n4  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"Don't  be  a  besotted  fool!"  suggested  his  friend, 
angrily.  "It  is  a  girl  worth  a  world  of  Susannes; 
it's  Jack  Marquand,  the  girl  you  sent  me  to.  I  owe 
you  a  something  decent  for  that,  Rob!  But  she 
tells  me  plainly  she'll  not  listen  to  me,  though  I 
talk  till  I'm  black  in  the  face." 

"Jack  said  that!" 

"Yes,  and  a  deal  more.  Oh,  she's  no  angel- 
bless  her!  And  I  deserve  it — deserve  every  bit  of 
it!  If  I  had  not  lied  to  her  about  the  other  things, 
she'd  maybe  believe  me  about  this!" 

"The— other  things?" 

Whereupon  Dick  unbosomed  himself  of  the 
iniquity  he  had  been  guilty  of  in  impersonating 
himself  in  an  emergency,  and  the  dire  results  fol 
lowing,  until  Rob  Kirkley  rolled  in  the  pine  needles 
in  unholy  mirth,  and  vowed  that  for  once  justice 
had  come  quickly! 

"And  you  had  a  hint  of  a  hope  that  you  could 
win  a  girl  like  Jack  after  that?"  he  demanded. 
"Oh!  the  folly  of  men  when  spoiled  by  pretty  girls 
and  their  grandaunts!  Dick,  it's  the  best  thing 
that  ever  happened  to  you.  You'll  learn  what 
your  real  value  is  by  the  time  Jack  Marquand  gets 
through  with  you.  Oh,  this  is  rich!" 

"And  you're  a  lot  of  help  to  a  friend,"  remarked 
Dick,  gloomily.  "The  worst  of  it  is  that  Susanne 
has  told  her.  I  meant  to,  but  the  woman  got 
ahead — that's  the  devil  of  it — got  ahead!  Jack 
thinks  now  that  I  was  forced  into  telling,  and  that 
settles  my  case." 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  115 

"Have  you  spoken  to  Mrs.  Mintern?" 

"How  could  I?  You  were  all  out  together  when 
this  thing  struck  me.  Spoken  to  her?  No,  nor 
will  I.  She's  got  the  telegram  by  this  time  to  join 
her  husband;  she'll  have  to  leave  to-day.  Thank 
the  Lord  I  made  her  do  that!  I'll  go  to  the  station, 
or  to  your  place,  Rob,  to  wait  for  Noah  Marquand, 
and  after  that — 

"You  say  you  have  made  Mrs.  Mintern  leave 
here? — you?" 

"I  sent  Nat  with  the  message  to  the  station.  It 
is  signed  by  her  husband,  calling  her  home — my 
first  forgery.  Nat  hired  a  strange  messenger  to 
bring  it  back,  so  that  it  would  appear  genuine  to 
the  Marquand  family,  and  account  for  her  going. 
I  tried  to  cover  her  tracks,  and  this  is  what  I  get  for 
it!  Gad!  if  there  were  only  a  man  to  fight  it  out 
with!" 

"  There  is  Dorothy  calling  us  to  dinner." 

"She  is  calling  you.  You  go,  and  you're  not 
supposed  to  have  seen  me — understand?  I  am 
ranging  around  the  farm  somewhere ;  and  you 
make  excuses  to  leave,  and  take  me  with  you 
directly  after  your  dinner  is  over.  I'll  be  back  by 
that  time." 

He  plunged  through  an  opening  in  the  fir  hedge, 
and  was  engulfed  from  sight  in  the  thick  green,  as 
Dorothy  crossed  the  garden,  repeating  the  dinner 
call,  and  scolded  Rob  for  loitering,  and  then  loitered 
with  him  while  she  told  him  that  Mrs.  Mintern' s 
husband  had  telegraphed  for  her,  and  the  carriage 


n6  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

was  to  take  her  to  the  station  for  the  train,  and  she 
was  cross  as  sticks,  and  Jack  looked  half  sick,  and 
they  were  all  as  dreary  as  a  tomb. 

Under  which  sprightly  conditions  Mr.  Kirkley 
had  to  face  the  task  alone  of  entertaining  four 
women  at  dinner,  during  which  he  cast  silent  anathe 
mas  after  Dick  for  his  cowardice  in  deserting. 

The  manner  of  the  two  cousins  on  hearing  of  his 
disappearance  was  the  one  interesting  note  in  the 
prolonged  hour.  Susanne  was  gayly  contemptu 
ous  of  his  ability  to  extricate  himself  from  a  bog, 
should  he  walk  into  one  in  the  fields;  and  Jack, 
after  the  courteous  inquiry  of  a  hostess,  apparently 
dismissed  him  utterly  from  her  mind  and  took  too 
little  interest  to  even  smile  at  Susanne 's  prophecies 
as  to  the  different  directions  in  which  he  might  be 
lost. 

Rob  concluded  that  if  Susanne  had  told  Jack,  the 
latter  had  returned  small  thanks  for  the  enlighten 
ment;  for  never  by  any  chance  did  she  meet  Su- 
sanne's  eyes  at  the  table,  though  that  puzzled  dame 
cast  many  an  inquiring  glance  at  the  cool,  quiet 
face  of  her  Quaker  cousin. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  117 


CHAPTER  IX. 

It  was  an  hour  before  noon  when  the  train  from 
Baltimore  halted  at  the  Marquands'  station,  to 
unload  its  limited  number  of  passengers,  among 
whom  were  two  men  rather  distinguished  from 
the  others  in  their  air  of  the  world  beyond  the  farm 
ing  lands. 

The  elder  was  a  little,  round  old  man  in  a  very 
brown  wig,  and  the  latest  cut  in  coat  and  trousers, 
while  the  other  was  of  less  than  middle  age,  with 
light  blue,  anxious  eyes,  a  florid  complexion,  with 
the  tan  of  the  salt  air  over  it.  He  walked  with  a 
cane,  as  he  moved  slowly  from  the  coach  to  the  little 
waiting  room. 

"  She  is  not  here,  my  dear  captain,"  said  the  older 
man,  who  had  hurriedly  consulted  the  station 
keeper.  "The  telegram  should  have  reached  her 
in  time — it  was  started  from  here  at  sun  up.  Some 
thing  must  be  wrong;  instead  of  waiting  here  for 
the  sheriff  and  his  ideas,  we  will  get  a  carriage  here 
to  take  us  to  Marquand's;  it  is  only  ten  miles, 
and—" 

"My  dear  Mintern,  I  can't  do  it — I  really  can't!" 
objected  the  other,  leaning  on  the  cane  in  a  sick, 
helpless  sort  of  way.  "  I  allowed  myself  to  be 
dragged  into  the  train  trip,  but  a  carriage  ride  ten 
miles  across  the  country — I  could  never  endure  it 
—impossible!" 


n8  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"Pooh!  pooh!  You  said  the  same  about  the 
train  trip  when  you  started,  yet  here  you  are,  not 
a  whit  the  worse.  By  Csesar!  you  look  better — 
got  more  color." 

"But  the  wound—" 

"Nothing  but  a  bullet  cut  out,  and  all  doing 
well.  What  better  can  you  expect?  Gleason,  if 
we  are  to  find  our  man,  my  enemy  and  your  intended 
murderer,  we  must  not  lose  an  hour — not  an  hour, 
sir.  We  will  not  stop  to  see  the  sheriff  now;  I'll 
write  him  to  follow  us  to  Noah  Marquand's.  Noah 
will  help  us;  he  is  my  wife's  own  cousin.  Where 
is  that  telegram?  Did  I  give  it  to  you?  No,  here 
it  is,  and  it's  too  significant  to  be  chance.  We  are 
on  the  track,  captain,  but  this  time  we  must  have 
Mrs.  Mintern  with  us  for  identification.  With 
the  two  of  you,  there  will  be  no  chance  of  failure. 
She  must  remember,  or — the  alternative — you  know 
the  alternative!" 

He  shook  his  brown  wigged  head  emphatically, 
and  folded  his  arms,  as  his  friend  looked  even  more 
ill  than  ever,  though  he  tried  to  nod  weakly. 

"Yes,  I  know,  the  divorce  you  threatened.  But 
do  you  not  think — 

"No,  no,  no!"  blustered  the  older  man.  "Your 
persuasions  are  well  meant,  Gleason — well  meant. 
You've  tried  to  be  a  true  friend — you  are  one,  by 
Caesar!  You  have  risked  your  life  for  my  wife  and 
my  honor.  And  if  she  is  too  frivolous  to  value  such 
devotion,  I  am  not,  sir — I  am  not!  But  on  this 
question  of  divorce  I  am  not  to  be  moved,  even  by 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  119 

you.     She    must    do    her    part    toward    convicting 
that  man,  or — 

He  shook  his  head  portentously  over  the  alterna 
tive,  and  adjusted  his  spectacles  to  read  a  telegram 
taken  from  his  pocket : 

HON.  PETER  MINTERN,  Bayside,  Md.:  Suspicious  stranger 
here,  gives  different  names,  one  that  of  a  relative  of  yours. 
Will  prevent  him  leaving  county  till  I  hear  from  you. 

HENRY  KANE,  Sheriff. 

"You  see,  Gleason,  we're  too  close  on  the  trail 
to  give  up  now.  You  must  brace  up  to  stand  it  a 
little  longer.  We'll  have  vengeance  for  that  wound 
of  yours,  I  promise  you." 

Gleason  only  groaned,  and  watched  the  depart 
ing  train  wistfully.  A  colored  servant  arranged 
some  shawls  on  one  of  the  benches,  that  he  might 
recline  on  them  while  waiting  for  the  carriage. 
And  Peter  Mintern  busied  himself  with  a  note  of 
directions  for  the  sheriff,  whom  he  asked  to  hold 
the  suspected  man  until  he  could  return  from  Mar- 
quand's  with  people  to  identify  him.  The  sugges 
tion  was  also  made  that  Mr.  Kane  might,  if  he 
thought  best,  follow  them  to  Noah  Marquand's 
house,  with  the  prisoner. 

A  train  on  its  way  south  stopped  at  the  station  a 
moment  later,  and  the  man  on  the  shawls  surveyed 
anxiously  Peter  Mintern's  back,  and  measured  with 
his  eyes  the  chances  of  reaching  the  car  steps  before 
he  turned. 

Though  lie  rose  to  a  sitting  position,  he  sank  back 
discouraged  as  a  tall,  fine-looking  man  in  Quaker 


120  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

garb  stepped  down,  and  Mintern's  colored  servant 
hurried  forward  with  a  series  of  bows,  to  relieve 
him  of  the  coat  he  carried  on  his  arm. 

"Howdy,  Mahs  Marquan',  howdy?"  he  said,  glee 
fully.  "You  all  don't  'member  me,  but  I'm  Mahs 
Mintern's  Jim.  I  'member  you  that  one  time 
you  come  down  to  we  all's  place  in  Baltimore. 
Here's  Mahs  Mintern  now,  jest  hot-foot  fo'  yo'^ 
place!" 

At  that  salutation  the  wounded  man  smothered 
a  groan  of  dismay;  the  helpers  on  the  trail  were 
gathering  in,  and  there  was  little  chance  either  of 
escape  or  rest  for  the  weary. 

The  second  train  rolled  on  southward;  and  the 
man  sank  back  on  the  improvised  couch  and  turned 
his  attention  to  the  newcomer,  who  was  greeted  by 
Peter  Mintern  effusively,  and  who  listened  to  the 
rather  confused  recitals  with  a  shadow  of  growing 
sternness  in  his  fine  eyes. 

"This  is  a  strange  tale  thee  has  to  tell  me,  Peter 
Mintern,"  he  said,  at  last.  "If  Susanne  is  at  my 
house,  and  thee  thinks  she  knows  the  man,  she 
must  by  all  means  tell  his  name.  Thee  tells  me  thy 
friend  who  was  shot  is  here?" 

Mr.  Mintern,  with  much  praise  for  his  friend, 
introduced  the  two  men,  and  Captain  Gleason  felt 
the  gray  eyes  of  the  Quaker  look  through  and 
beyond  him  as  Noah  Marquand  took  his  hand. 

The  conveyance  came  around  promptly,  and 
with  it  a  saddle  horse  for  their  host. 

"I  expected  to  take  my  journey  horseback,  but 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  121 

circumstances  changed  my  plans,  and  I  went  by 
train.  This  fellow  has  had  a  good  rest  while  wait 
ing  for  me." 

He  swung  into  the  saddle,  a  magnificent  speci 
men  of  a  man.  Small  wonder  that  in  picturing 
the  man  of  her  future  Jack  had  thought  of  her 
father  as  the  man  he  must  most  resemble  in  strength 
and  poise. 

"I  am  scarcely  expected  home  until  to-morrow," 
he  remarked,  as  he  rode  easily  beside  the  creaky 
carriage.  "The  steam  cars  are  a  great  invention 
for  saving  time." 

"And  for  saving  aching  bones,"  added  Captain 
Gleason,  gloomily.  "I  trust,  Mr.  Marquand,  there 
is  a  physician  in  your  neighborhood  if  one  should 
be  needed;  this  journey  is — ugh! — well-nigh  be 
yond  endurance." 

"The  roads  are  rough  after  the  spring  rains," 
conceded  Mr.  Marquand.  "A  saddle  horse  is  best 
when  the  roads  are  bad;  if  thee  would  prefer  this 
one—" 

But  the  injured  man  eyed  the  prancing,  dancing 
young  animal  with  disfavor;  the  carriage  was  less 
liable  for  jolts  to  a  sailor. 

"I  see  one  of  the  beasts  from  my  farm  ahead 
there,"  remarked  Marquand.  "I  think  the  rider 
is  a  colored  man,  but  I  can  warrant  that  animal 
for  staidness,  if  thee  has  a  mind  to  try  it." 

He  lifted  the  bridle  rein.  The  animal  he  rode 
forged  ahead,  and  a  minute  later  brought  him  along 
side  of  Nat,  who  was  jogging  along  sedately,  glad 


122  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

to  go  slow  on  his  homeward  way,  after  his  hurried 
ride  to  the  station  with  the  bogus  telegram,  the 
messenger  of  which  had  left  him  far  behind,  and 
whom  he  was  now  keeping  his  eyes  open  to 
avoid  as  he  scanned  the  country  roads  and  lanes 
ahead. 

It  never  occurred  to  him  to  keep  any  watch  in 
the  rear;  and  when  the  horse  of  Marquand  galloped 
up  beside  him,  and  an  authoritative  "Ho!  boy," 
sounded  in  his  ears,  he  turned  in  wild  surprise. 

But  no  more  so  than  the  master  of  the  horse, 
who  saw  for  the  first  time  that  it  was  not  one  of  his 
own  boys  who  bestrode  the  animal. 

"Where  did  you  come  by  that  filly?"  he  asked, 
and  Nat  stuttered  in  his  amaze  and  fear,  for  every 
foot  of  road  in  every  direction  was  filled  with  terror 
for  Nat  those  days. 

"Why,  sah,  that  thah  filly— that  filly,  she  b'long 
to  Mahstah  Marquand — she  do!  He  lives  ovah 
yon — yondah  way."  This  last  with  a  sweeping 
gesture  taking  in  the  whole  western  horizon. 

"But  thee — what  is  thy  name?  Whose  boy  are 
you?" 

"Me?     Why  I  b'long— I  b'long—" 

Nat  at  that  moment  caught  sight  of  the  carriage 
and  its  occupants,  and  straightway  forgot  where  he 
belonged.  He  only  had  one  wild  idea  of  where  he 
ought  to  go — to  warn  Dick  Cardiff.  Obeying  that 
impulse,  he  dug  his  heels  into  his  filly's  sides,  and 
with  an  imperative  "G'up,  thah!"  attempted  to 
forge  ahead. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  123 

But  the  forging  was  a  brief  effort,  for  Noah  Mar- 
quand,  with  swift  strides,  headed  him  off  and  caught 
his  bridle  as  the  carriage  came  up. 

"  Now  will  thee  tell  me  thy  name,  and  where  thee 
came  into  possession  of  my  animal?" 

"Why — why — Ezra,  he — 

"Hold  on  to  him!  Don't  let  him  go  for  an 
instant,"  called  Peter  Mintern,  standing  erect  in  the 
carriage,  and  waving  his  hands  in  wild  excitement. 
"It's  just  as  I  suspected  all  along!  That's  Dick 
Cardiff's  boy,  and  Dick  Cardiff  is  the  suspect  the 
sheriff  means.  We're  on  his  track;  hold  on  to  that 
boy  for  all  you're  worth!" 

Noah  Marquand  stared  at  him  interrogatively. 

"Sheriff?"  he  said,  quietly.  "Is  there  a  sheriff 
after  thee?  Has  thee  run  away?" 

"N — no,  sah.  I — I  nevah  run  only  when  Mans 
Dick  senden'  me;  I  never  did!" 

1 '  Then  why  attempt  to  run  when  I  questioned 
thee?" 

Nat  was  silent,  glancing  at  Peter  Mintern  and 
Captain  Glcason.  The  latter  was  white  as  his 
collar,  and  fairly  holding  his  breath  to  listen. 

"It  was  the  sight  of  me  struck  him  dumb!" 
stated  the  accusing  Mintern.  "Where  that  boy  is, 
his  master  is ;  that  is  the  suspicious  character  who  is 
supposed  to  be  my  relative.  We'll  see  now — we'll 
see!  Where  are  you  going,  you  black  rascal?" 

Again  Nat  tried  to  break  away,  and  failed. 

'  'This  horse  belongs  to  me ;  the  boy  is  heading  home 
ward,  so  we  will  take  him  along,"  said  Marquand, 


i24  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

eyeing  the  boy  curiously,  but  not  unkindly.  Nat's 
first  truthful  answer  had  overbalanced  the  evidence 
of  his  desire  to  escape. 

But  Mr.  Mintern  had  no  such  trust.  v 

"Then  he  must  ride  in  the  carriage  beside  the 
driver,"  he  decided.  "I'm  sorry  we  left  Jim  behind 
at  the  station;  he  could  have  held  him  in.  But 
you  have  a  pistol,  captain;  your  task  will  be  to 
guard  him  from  any  attempt  to  escape.  I  will 
take  his  horse  instead ;  I  have  not  ridden  for  eighteen 
years,  but  I'll  take  any  sort  of  chance  to  reach  your 
place,  Noah,  before  this  black  rascal  gets  there. 
Even  now  they  may  have  taken  warning  from  my 
telegram,  and  eloped.  That  may  be  the  reason 
she  was  not  at  the  station.  Ride  on,  Noah.  Ride 
as  if  for  your  life!  I'll  keep  up — I'll  keep  up!" 

His  will  was  good,  though  neither  his  endurance 
nor  that  of  the  animal  was  equal  to  that  of  Noah 
Marquand,  who  held  in  his  own  beast — fresh  after 
its  two  days  of  rest.  But  ill  matched  as  they  were, 
they  soon  outdistanced  the  carriage,  and  galloped 
without  words  along  the  lanes  and  highways ;  Peter 
Mintern  eager  and  furious  at  the  discovery  of  Nat, 
and  Noah  Marquand  silent  and  thoughtful,  a  deep 
wrinkle  between  his  placid  brows  as  he  glanced  ever 
and  anon  in  perplexity  at  his  companion,  whose 
chase  and  its  object — especially  the  outspoken 
suspicions — were,  it  could  be  easily  seen,  viewed 
with  little  favor  by  the  silent  relative  of  Susanne. 

He  had  heard  of  the  Bayside  sensation,  and  was 
ill  pleased  that  a  woman  of  the  family  should  be 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  125 

discussed  in  superlatives  as  had  been  done  in  the 
papers  in  the  case  of  Susanne  and  the  romantic 
attempt  at  kidnaping. 

Captain  Gleason  had  also  come  in  for  his  share 
of  praise  for  gallantry  in  defense  of  beauty;  but  to 
the  eyes  of  Noah  Marquand,  he  had  appeared  any 
thing  but  gallant  as  he  crouched  nervously  in  the 
corner  of  the  carriage. 

Of  Dick  Cardiff's  name  he  had  seen  no  mention 
in  the  papers,  but  as  he  rode  along  he  thought  of 
the  little  neighbor  girl  he  had  known  long  ago,  who 
had  moved  to  the  South  and  married  a  Richard 
Cardiff.  Peter  Mintern's  disjointed  phrases  of  wrath 
had  told  him  but  little  of  the  lad  who  was  no  doubt 
her  son ;  and  he  asked  few  questions,  waiting  to  see 
the  man. 


126  MY  QUAKER  MAID 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  man  was  standing  beside  his  saddle  horse, 
waiting  for  Rob,  who  had  some  final  things  to  say 
to  Dorothy;  and  Jack,  for  mere  courtesy's  sake, 
stood  on  the  veranda  steps  to  watch  their  departure, 
when  Susanne  appeared  at  the  hall  door. 

"Jack,"  she  called,  "  I've  changed  my  mind  about 
going  to-day.  I'm  tired.  His  message  asked  me 
to  be  there  for  the  three  o'clock  train.  Well,  I 
can't  make  that  now  without  driving  fit  to  kill 
horses;  so  I  might  as  well  stay  over  until  morning." 

"As  you  please,"  replied  Jack,  quietly,  without 
looking  around.  :'The  carriage  will  be  ready  when 
you  please." 

Cardiff  looked  at  Susanne  sharply,  but  could  see 
no  sign  of  any  subterfuge  there.  She  had  evidently 
given  up  the  fight  and  was  accepting  his  terms,  yet 
was  simply  too  tired  for  the  drive. 

For  the  first  time  since  their  quarrel  of  the  morn 
ing,  he  addressed  her. 

"You  say  Uncle  Mintern  telegraphed  you  to  meet 
a  certain  train?"  he  asked,  with  pointed  emphasis. 

She  regarded  him  with  disdain  for  an  instant,  as 
if  in  doubt  whether  to  reply,  and  then : 

"You  can  read  the  message  in  order  to  be  cer 
tain,"  she  said,  sarcastically.  "Jack,  I  handed  it 
to  you,  did  I  not?  Please  let  Mr.  Cardiff  see  it;  I 
don't  think  I  made  a  mistake." 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  127 

Her  eyes,  mocking,  yet  with  difficulty  shielding 
her  anger  from  the  rest,  met  his  as  she  spoke,  and 
opened  a  trifle  wider  as  he  walked  direct  to  Jack, 
who  took  the  paper  from  her  apron  pocket. 

"  I  did  not  understand,"  he  remarked.  "  I  thought 
—I  understood  that  your  telegram  simply  asked 
your  return  to  Bayside.  I  did  not  know  you  were 
to  meet  a  certain  train." 

"Bayside!  It  wras  sent  from  Baltimore,  or,"  she 
added,  with  quiet  meaning,  "it  is  headed  Balti 
more." 

Without  a  word,  Jack  handed  him  the  paper,  and 
Rob  Kirkley,  as  well  as  Susanne,  was  aware  by  his 
quick  frown  of  surprise  that  the  wording  there  was 
not  what  he  expected. 

He  crumpled  it  in  his  hand  and  turned  to  her 
sharply. 

"  I  think  you  are  making  a  mistake,"  he  said,  with 
quick  decision.  "You  had  better  drive  at  once  to 
the  station.  Your  husband  is  due  there  before  this, 
and  is  probably  waiting.  This  message  was  sent 
from  Baltimore  last  night." 

"Dick!" 

Susanne 's  voice  was  a  frightened  cry  as  she  sped 
down  the  steps  and  stood  beside  him. 

"  Dick,  you  are  trying  to  frighten  me.  He  is  not — 
that  is — this  message— 

"It  should  have  reached  you  early  this  morning. 
It  states  plainly  that  he  will  meet  you  there." 

"But  I  never  dreamed,"  she  half  whispered  as 
Jack  moved  away.  "  I — I  thought  you  had  sent — 


128  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"I  never  laid  eyes  on  this  message  before,"  he 
said,  quietly,  and  then  in  a  lower  tone  of  command : 
"Order  the  carriage!" 

"But  you — you  sent— 

"This  is  not  the  message  I  sent." 

"My  God!" 

She  grew  white,  and  swayed  dizzily,  but  Cardiff 
caught  her  by  the  arm. 

"Steady!"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "This  is  no 
time  for  fainting,  Susanne ;  it  is  more  serious  than  a 
kidnaping." 

"You're  a  brute!"  she  muttered,  between  pale 
lips,  as  she  wrenched  herself  away  from  him,  and 
then,  in  a  louder  tone:  "I  am  tired — that  is  all. 
And  I — I  must  have  read  the  telegram  carelessly. 
I  did  not  understand  that  he  would  be  there,  but  I 
will  go  at  once,  now  that  I  know,  now  that  I  under 
stand." 

"Ezra  will  have  the  carriage  ready  at  once," 
said  Jack.  "  And  anything  we  can  do  to  assist — 

"Why  not  wait  a  little  longer  and  accompany  the 
carriage?"  demanded  Dorothy  of  Kirkley.  "You 
go  three  miles  in  the  same  direction,  and  it  would 
be  only  gallant." 

Rob  turned  to  Dick  before  framing  his  reply ;  but 
Dick's  eyes  were  following  Jack  rather  hopelessly. 

She  was  walking  across  the  lawn  with  her  head 
erect,  haughtily,  and  never  a  glance  toward  him. 
He  knew  that  she  alone  had  heard  those  words  ex 
changed  with  Susanne,  and  the  meaning  she  had 
read  from  them,  who  might  conjecture? 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  129 

If  only  there  was  a  vestige  of  a  chance  of  a  word 
alone  with  her  before  going — any  chance  that  he 
could  lessen  ever  so  little  the  growing  accumulation 
of  evidence  against  him! 

He  started  to  cross  the  lawn  after  her,  but  she  had 
spoken  with  Ezra  and  was  coming  back.  When 
she  saw  him  approach,  she  halted  with  one  quick 
gleam  of  blazing  fury  in  her  eyes. 

The  cold  indifference  of  the  arbor  was  gone. 
Before  her  very  eyes  they  had  dropped  their  mask  of 
intrigue,  and  had  let  her  hear  their  half -whispered 
words  to  each  other.  As  he  dared  approach  her 
she  stopped  him  with  a  look,  and  walked  past  as  if 
he  had  been  one  of  the  gate  posts  instead  of  a  very 
handsome  young  fellow,  looking  at  her  with  his 
heart  in  his  eyes. 

Dorothy  saw  it  all,  and  was  rather  crestfallen  at 
this  very  disappointing  ending  of  the  romance  she 
had  planned. 

Rob  Kirkley  grinned  unsympathetically.  As  he 
had  remarked  to  Dick  at  noon,  justice  was  coming 
swiftly,  and  he  was  joyful  that  he  was  on  hand  to 
see  Dick's  undoing. 

"You  will  wait?"  asked  Dorothy  of  Dick. 

"I  think  not,"  he  said,  rather  reluctantly.  "My 
adieus  have  been  said,  and  if  Mr.  Kirkley  is  ready- 
Rob  thought  he  was.  There  was  a  whispered 
word  about  a  call  on  the  morrow,  and  then  the  two 
gentlemen  mounted  and  rode  away;  and  Dorothy 
went  slowly  back  to  the  house,  not  at  all  satisfied, 
and  feeling  a  bit  resentful  toward  Rob,  whose  covert 


1 30  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

smiles  betrayed  some  knowledge  of  the  cause  of 
Jack's  odd  manner  and  of  Susanne's  submission  to 
Dick  Cardiff's  order — for  it  was  little  else. 

Jack's  sudden  coldness  to  both  her  cousin  and  Dick 
Cardiff  was  the  most  incomprehensible  thing;  and 
the  coldness  of  Susanne  to  Dick  was  almost  as 
mysterious.  Last  night  all  had  apparently  been 
so  harmonious ;  Jack  had  been  so  unexpectedly  gay, 
so  bright,  so  smiling,  so  above  all  Susanne's  clever 
little  strokes.  But  to-day  she  was  back  under  high 
fences  of  Quaker  decorum — only  coldly  courteous 
to  those  two  worldly  connections  of  her  family,  and 
with  a  new,  strange  air  of  aloofness  barring  out  even 
the  questions  of  Dorothy. 

The  little  maid  felt  out  of  it  all,  and  not  quite 
sure  of  anything  but  Rob.  Of  course  Rob  was 
quite  worth  while,  and  she  was  in  a  flutter  of  eager 
ness  to  tell  Jack  what  he  had  said  to  her  on  the 
veranda  alone  last  night — or,  at  least,  a  part  of  what 
had  been  said. 

Jack  looked  too  icy  for  sympathy  with  anything 
approaching  a  love  affair;  and  now  that  Dick  Car 
diff  had  ridden  away,  despite  Aunt  Tabitha's  re 
peated  invitations,  Dorothy  felt  that  her  jubilation 
over  a  romance  for  her  beloved  friend  was  doomed 
to  disappointment.  Any  girl  who  could  send  Dick 
Cardiff  away  like  that — and  Dick  Cardiff  as  plainly 
in  love  as  he  had  shown  himself  last  night — was 
hopeless  for  all  purposes  of  romance.  Icy  was  the 
only  word  for  her. 

Dorothy  meant  to  attempt  a  thawing  process  as 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  131 

soon  as  Susanne's  carriage  disappeared.  Once  the 
worldlings  were  gone,  Jack  might  again  be  the  lova 
ble  Jack  of  other  days— the  lovely,  compliant  Jack 
whom  she  had  decked  with  corals  and  white  satin 
and  danced  with  riotously. 

So  planning,  she  went  thoughtfully  up  the  stairs 
to  Jack's  room,  halting  a  moment  at  the  hall  entrance 
to  look  across  the  field,  where  a  bend  in  the  road 
might  bring  the  two  horsemen  again  into  sight. 

Yes,  they  were  moving  along  at  a  foot  pace,  evi 
dently  deep  in  converse;  but  Rob  caught  sight  of 
the  fluttering  handkerchief  and  waved  a  satisfactory 
signal  in  return.  In  a  brief  dream  as  to  the  hour 
when  he  would  come  back,  and  other  dreams  of  the 
winning  of  her  father  to  Rob's  ideas,  Dorothy  forgot 
for  a  moment  all  about  Jack  and  her  strange  man 
ner  to  her  Maryland  guests. 

It  was  only  for  a  moment.  She  was  roused  by  a 
sharp  knock  on  Jack's  door,  followed  by  it  suddenly 
opening  and  closing;  and  then  Susanne's  high  tones 
sounded  through  the  window  and  reached  Dorothy, 
who  stood  out  of  sight  in  the  corner  of  the 
veranda. 

"I  suppose  you  thought  I  was  going  without 
seeing  you  again,"  she  said,  insolently,  "but  I'm 
not.  You  and  Dick  Cardiff  think  you  are  having 
your  own  wray ;  but  it  won't  last,  I  can  tell  you  that! 
You  might  as  well  know  that  his  promises,  especially 
to  women,  are  not  to  be  depended  upon,  and — 

"If  Mr.  Cardiff  has  made  promises  to  thee  which 
he  has  not  kept,  it  is  as  well  for  thy  own  honor  that 


132  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

thee  keeps  the  falsehood  of  it  to  thyself,"  said  Jack, 
in  tones  of  cold,  cutting  anger.  "I  have  no  desire 
to  know  thy  secrets." 

" Secrets!  Oh,  you  carry  it  off  well  for  a  country 
girl!"  retorted  Susanne,  with  a  mirthless  laugh. 
"Can't  I  see  that  he  has  told  you  everything — false 
telegrams  and  all?  He  wants  to  drive  me  away 
because  he's  afraid  I'd  tell  Cousin  Noah  too  much. 
And  you — you  think  because  he's  a  great  catch,  has 
a  magnificent  estate— 

"Stop!"  And  Dorothy,  outside  the  window, 
almost  jumped  at  the  peremptory  force  of  Jack's 
command.  "  It  is  as  well  that  thee  each  leaves  here 
knowing  at  least  one  truth!  Until  this  morning  I 
had  no  knowledge  of  that  man's  name,  or  history, 
or  estates.  I  thought  him  a  slave,  hiding  from  a 
master,  from  bloodhounds,  from  all  the  horrors  of 
shackled  men.  I  took  him  in  as  I  would  any  other 
wanderer.  I  gave  him  a  name — 7,  in  jest,  for  a 
trick — a  sinful  trick  on  Dorothy — gave  him  the  name 
of  Cardiff  and  never  guessed  it  was  his  own.  I  did 
it  as  I  danced  with  him  last  night,  to  shield  him — 
to  help  a  man  I  should  never  see  again  in  this  world. 
He  let  me  think  it  that  he  might  wait  here — thee 
knows  best  why.  I  do  know  he  is  the  man  thy  hus 
band  has  rewards  offered  for.  I  do  know  he  is  the 
man  who  shot  thy  husband's  friend;  but  I  learned 
it  all,  not  from  him,  but  from  thy  own  lips  when 
thee  chose  to  quarrel  with  him  this  morning.  There 
are  not  likely  to  be  confidences  between  Richard 
Cardiff  and  me." 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  133 

"Oh-h-h!"  And  Susanne's  tone  expressed  all 
that  was  most  mocking  and  derisive.  "A  runaway 
slave !  You  thought  him  that !  Dick  Cardiff !  And 
he — ah,  ha!  ha!  ha!"  And  she  laughed  shrilly.  "  I 
see  now  how  it  was — a  new  game,  the  thing  we 
laughed  at  last  night.  He  wanted  to  win  without 
his  money  to  back  him,  and  he  won — he  won!  Now 
I  can  read  between  all  the  lines,  and  it's  a  fine  thing 
for  Noah  Marquand  to  hear.  I  wagered  a  horse, 
but  I  can  do  better  now !  I  can  say  to  Dick  Cardiff : 
'  Silence  for  silence ! '  If  he  keeps  silence  to  Peter 
Mintern,  I  can  afford  to  keep  your  story  from  Cousin 
Noah.  Oh,  it's  a  fine  exchange,  and ' 

"There  will  be  no  exchange.  When  my  father 
comes  home  he  shall  hear  every  word  of  that  assumed 
name — Richard  Cardiff  did  nothing  to  deceive  me 
in  that;  mine  was  the  fault,  the  trick.  He  knew 
nothing  of  my  mistake  until  the  sheriff  reached  here 
that  night.  Never  be  deceived  by  the  idea  that  I 
would  shield  myself  by  any  compact  between 
Richard  Cardiff  and  thee — never,  never!  I  trust  I 
have  seen  thee  both  for  the  last  time." 

"Fare  you  well,  then!"  laughed  Susanne,  mock 
ingly.  "  But,  Jack,  all  your  anger  can't  hide  from 
me  that  you  were  crying  when  I  came  in  here — 
crying  because  he  was  gone — the  runaway  slave!" 

What  Jack  did,  or  meant  to  do,  Dorothy  never 
learned;  but  Susanne,  with  a  half  shriek  of  fear, 
tore  open  the  door,  and,  slamming  it  shut  after  her, 
fled  in  terror  along  the  corridor  and  across  the 
veranda.  She  did  not  even  see  Dorothy  in  her 


134  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

flight  to  her  own  room,  from  which  the  latter  heard 
her  calling  impatiently  to  Phebe  to  have  the  carriage 
brought  at  once— at  once ! 

Dorothy,  her  eyes  big  with  wonder,  crept  quietly 
to  her  own  room,  careful  lest  a  rustling  skirt  should 
betray  her  to  the  girl  whom  she  heard  sobbing  with 
rage  and  shame  inside  the  window. 

A  few  minutes  later,  when  Aunt  Tabitha  went  to 
Jack's  room  to  ask  concerning  the  new  carriage 
robe  for  Susanne,  the  room  was  empty.  Jack  was 
not  to  be  found,  much  to  Tabitha's  embarrassment 
when  a  guest  was  leaving  the  house. 

And  only  old  Ezra  knew  of  a  veiled  face  at  the 
back  door  of  the  carriage  house,  and  of  how  the  har 
nessing  of  the  team  was  delayed  until  a  side  saddle 
was  put  on  Jack's  favorite ;  and  then  of  how  a  horse 
woman  walked  her  nag  quietly  back  of  the  farm 
buildings  to  a  side  lane,  from  which  they  had  scope 
to  run  unseen  if  they  liked,  and  leave  the  turmoil  of 
the  world  behind. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  135 


CHAPTER  XI. 

It  was  perhaps  ten  minutes  later  when  the  car 
riage  turned  from  the  lawn  gate  into  the  avenue, 
only  to  be  halted  there  by  a  faint  scream  from  Mis 
tress  Mintern,  and  a  frightened,  fervent  Drayer  from 
her  maid. 

Two  men  were  galloping  up  the  avenue ;  one  was 
Noah  Marquand,  and  the  other,  bobbing  along  in 
the  rear,  breathless  and  hatless,  was  Peter  Mintern! 

"Turn  around!"  said  Susanne,  sharply,  to  the 
driver.  She  had  no  mind  for  one  of  Mr.  Mintern's 
scenes  in  the  presence  of  the  Marquand  servants. 

The  man  did  so  obediently,  and  the  carriage  had 
scarcely  reached  the  inner  drive  when  she  jumped 
out  and  ran  up  the  steps  of  the  veranda. 

"Why,  Susanne!"  began  the  wondering  Tabitha; 
but  Dorothy,  who  stood  beside  her,  only  looked, 
and  said  never  a  word. 

"  Peter  Mintern  is  on  the  road  there,  coming  with 
Cousin  Noah.  He  is  angry,  of  course,  because  I  did 
not  meet  him.  When  he  is  angry  he  is  most  unrea 
sonable  and  quarrelsome;  and  I  prefer  to  hear  his 
fault-finding  here  rather  than  in  the  middle  of  the 
road!"  And  Susanne  whisked  brusquely  past  her 
questioner  and  into  the  house. 

' '  These  are  most  strange  manners,  Dorothy, ' ' 
remarked  the  dismayed  Tabitha.  "Jaqcynthia 
should  by  all  means  be  here ;  yet,  if  Noah  comes -" 


136  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

Noah  came  a  moment  later,  gave  quiet  observa 
tion  to  the  carriage  ready  for  the  journey,  and  the 
paralyzed  maid  among  the  bandboxes. 

"Thee  had  better  step  down  and  into  the  house," 
he  observed.  "Thy  mistress  will  not  depart  yet  a 
while." 

Phebe  silently  obeyed,  trembling  with  fear,  and 
anxious  to  avoid  her  master;  but  she  was  scarcely 
quick  enough,  for  he  called  to  her  as  she  reached  the 
steps. 

"Tell  your  mistress  I  am  here.  And  tell  Mr. 
Richard  Cardiff  that  Mr.  Mintern  would  like  a  few 
words  with  him  in  the  garden." 

"Mahs  Dick  be  not  heah  now,"  said  Phebe,  with 
chattering  teeth.  "He  done  left  a  while  back  with 
Mahs  Kirkley." 

"Kirkley?"  said  Noah  Marquand.  "Mr.  Robin 
son  Kirkley?" 

"Y-yes,  sah!  I  heerd  him  say  he  goen'  ovah  to 
visit  Kirkleysford  till  Mr.  Marquand  done  come 
home." 

"It's  a  trick,  Noah — a  trick!"  sputtered  Peter 
Mintern.  "He's  seen  my  telegram  and  lit  out! 
You  see,  that  sheriff  was  right!  /  was  right!  It 
was  in  my  own  house  the  enemy  was — and  we've 
run  him  down — we've  run  him  down!" 

"  The  Kirkley s  are  the  best  people  of  our  district," 
observed  Noah  Marquand.  "And  if  he  is  their 
guest — 

"Their  guest!  That  fellow  has  the  effrontery  of 
the  very  devil!  Will  not  his  money  open  every 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  137 

door  to  him?  Oh,  he  is  one  of  the  dashing  blades 
whom  the  social  fools  admire!  That  is  why  he 
escaped  so  easily — friends  have  helped  cover  his 
tracks.  But  they  could  not  fool  me!  When  Susanne 
refused  to  describe  the  man,  when  that  noble  fellow 
Gleason  swore  he  could  not  identify  him,  I  knew  in  a 
minute  it  was  someone  near  home.  And  it  was!  It 
was  the  very  one  I  had  quarreled  with  that  night 
for  his — his  steady  watchfulness  of  her  all  the  even 
ing.  I  saw  it  and  took  him  to  task,  and  his  revenge 
was  to  try  and  compromise  my  wife — kidnap  her, 
by  Caesar !  If  it  had  not  been  for  Captain  Gleason— 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  steps  of  the 
veranda,  and  Mr.  Mintern  required  all  his  breath 
for  the  mounting  of  them;  but  once  at  the  top  he 
began  again. 

"Now,  Noah,  I'm  going  to  be  calm — perfectly 
calm.  It  is  your  house ;  you  be  the  arbitrator,  you 
do  the  talking.  If  it  is  not  an  open  confession,  it 
is  a  separation — nothing  but  a  separation!  I  will 
not  listen  to — 

They  had  reached  the  living  room,  and  Susanne 
was  there;  also  Dorothy,  who  went  soberly  up  to 
Noah  Marquand,  shook  hands  with  him,  and  with 
Mr.  Mintern,  whom  she  had  met  in  Philadelphia. 
That  gentleman  had  no  remembrance  of  her  face, 
nor,  indeed,  did  he  see  anyone  in  the  room  but 
blond,  nervous,  defiant  Susanne.  Dorothy  did  her 
social  duty  to  Noah's  guest  just  as  if  he  did  not 
regard  her  with  unseeing  eyes,  and  then  she  turned 
to  their  host. 


138  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"Jack  has  gone  out,  Uncle  Noah,"  she  said. 
' '  But  I  shall  be  on  the  veranda  if  thee  should  have 
need  of  me."  Then  she  walked  out  of  the  room 
and  left  the  antagonists  alone. 

Mr.  Mintern  glared  at  his  wife.  She  loosened  her 
bonnet  strings,  and,  putting  it  aside,  sank  into  an 
easy-chair. 

"Well,"  she  remarked,  "I  am  glad  to  see  thee, 
Uncle  Noah.  I  came  here  for  your  advice,  but  a 
telegram  from  Mr.  Mintern  was  about  to  call  me 
away  before  seeing  you." 

"Peter  tells  me  a  strange  tale,  Susanne,"  he 
answered,  seating  himself  and  looking  seriously  at 
the  fluffy,  beflowered  creature  among  the  cushions. 
"I  have  read  an  extraordinary  thing  in  the  paper 
concerning  the  shooting  at  Bayside;  and  now  thy 
husband  maintains  it  was  his  grandnephew  did  the 
shooting,  and  that  Captain  Gleason  and  thyself  are 
contriving  to  hide  the  criminal." 

"Peter  dreams  things  and  fancies  they  are  true, 
Cousin  Noah,"  she  observed,  lightly.  "Captain 
Gleason  knows  Dick  Cardiff,  and  has  no  reason  to 
shield  him.  I  scarcely  think  the  men  are  even 
friends.  Why  should  he  shield  him?" 

"The  captain  is  following  in  the  carriage.  If 
Mr.  Cardiff  can  be  sent  for,  this  suspicion  of  thy 
husband's  can  easily  be  made  clear." 

"Following  in  the  carriage!"  Susanne  reached 
again  for  her  bonnet.  "You  mean— you  have 
dared,  Peter  Mintern,  to  drag  that  man  here  after 
me?  You  have  dared?  I  left  Bayside  because  you 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  139 

kept  him  there.  I  hate  him!  I  despise  him!  I 
will  not  exchange  one  word  with  him — or  even  see 
him!  The  man  is  a  fool!" 

' '  The  man  was  once  an  officer  of  the  British  navy, ' ' 
stated  Mr.  Mintern,  as  if  that  fact  pre-supposed  all 
acknowledgment  of  intellectual  efficiency.  "He  is 
the  master  of  a  very  substantial  yacht,  and — 

Susanne  interrupted  with  a  muffled,  nervous 
shriek. 

"  Don't  mention  that  yacht!  Don't  mention  that 
man  again,  or  I'll  not  be  accountable!  Dick  Cardiff 
was  right  in  one  thing — he  said  the  man  was 
cruising  in  that  boat  for  some  woman  with  money, 
and  that  he  was  not  over-scrupulous  as  to  how 
he  got " 

"Oh,  ho!  Then  it  was  Dick  set  you  against  that 
poor  gentleman?  I  knew  it!  You  see,  Noah,  she 
acknowledges  his  influence;  she — 

"You'll  drive  me  raving  mad  between  you!" 
cried  the  distracted  Susanne.  "I  detest  your 
nephew  as  much  as  I  do  your  bosom  friend,  the 
captain.  If  you  want  me  to  go  home  with  you, 
you'll  have  to  promise  me  never  to  let  either  of  them 
enter  your  door  again." 

"I  think  your  wife  shows  good  judgment  in  that 
decision,"  said  Noah  Marquand.  "These  two  men 
seem  to  have  brought  strange  commotion  into  thy 
family,  Peter;  and  if  it  is  against  the  wishes  of  thy 
wife,  does  thee  think  it  wise  to  give  preference  to 
the  stranger  over  the  dislike  of  the  woman  thou 
hast  married?" 


1 40  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"  She  disliked  neither  of  them  until  this  kidnap 
ing,  Noah,"  stated  Peter  Mintern,  promptly.  "It 
is  the  very  reason  for  this  dislike  I  am  seeking  for 
now;  when  I  have  found  it  I  shall  know  who  the 
man  is,  and  why  he  is  shielded.  And  if  it  is  not  Dick 
Cardiff,  why  has  he  followed  you  here?  And  why 
has  he  taken  to  the  road  when  he  knew  I  sent  for  you  ? 
Answer  me  that,  Mrs.  Mintern — answer  me  that!" 

"  Follow  me! "  laughed  Susanne,  scornfully.  "  Dick 
Cardiff  followed  no  one  when  he  rode  here.  I  found 
him  installed  as  a  guest  in  your  house,  Cousin  Noah. 
As  to  the  reason  for  it,  you  must  ask  your  daughter." 

"My  daughter!  Jaqcynthia  had  scarcely  heard 
the  man's  name;  no  more  had  I." 

"Well,  you'll  hear  enough  of  him  now,"  she 
retorted,  meaningly.  "  But  it  was  never  to  see  me 
he  came." 

Noah  looked  at  her  with  steady,  serious  eyes. 

"Who,  then?"  he  asked,  quietly. 

Susanne's  own  eyes  fell  as  she  slipped  rings  on 
and  off  her  fingers.  How  she  would  have  loved — 
loved  to  have  told  him !  If  only  she  dared ! 

"I  found  him  here,  that  is  all  I  can  say,  Cousin 
Noah.  Only — he  never  expected  me  to  interrupt 
his  visit." 

Noah  Marquand  and  Peter  Mintern  exchanged 
glances.  There  was  nothing  sensible  to  be  got  out 
of  the  woman,  with  her  fitful  petulance,  her  nervous 
unaccountability. 

"  I  can  ask  Tabitha  since  Jaqcynthia  is  not  in  the 
house,"  remarked  Noah. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  141 

"Tabitha  knows  no  more  about  it  than  you  do, 
Noah  Marquand.  Only  Jack  knows.  Maybe  she 
will  tell  you  when  she  comes — maybe." 

"I  like  not  thy  flippant  manner  regarding  the 
affair,"  said  her  cousin.  "This  is  a  serious  thing  to 
all  but  thee.  If  thy  kinsman  came  not  here  to  see 
thee " 

"  He  did  not,  I  tell  you.  I  was  about  the  last  person 
on  earth  Dick  Cardiff  wanted  to  walk  in  here  and 
spoil  his  fun.  Oh,  you  may  look,  but  I've  said  all  I'm 
going  to.  Only — he  did  not  come  here  to  see  me!" 

At  that  moment  Ezra  appeared  in  the  doorway 
with  an  envelope  in  his  hand. 

"A  telegraft  fo'  Mist'ess  Mintern,  sah,"  he  said. 
And  Mr.  Mintern  being  nearest,  took  it  from  him. 

"A  telegram!"  he  said,  holding  it  up  and  shaking 
it  ominously.  "Who  knew  where  to  find  you  here? 
Who?" 

"You  did,"  she  said,  promptly. 

"I?" 

"Open  it  if  you  have  any  doubts,"  she  suggested. 
She  knew  that  he  would  do  it  anyway ;  and  the  cer 
tainty  that  he  was  very  close  to  the  truth  steadied 
her  nerves  instead  of  occasioning  her  extra  worry. 

Anything  was  better  than  suspense.  And  if 
Gleason  was  really  almost  at  the  gates,  and  if  Dick 
should  be  made  to  face  him — well,  a  chaos  had  come, 
and  what  use  to  fight  further? 

"  Open  it,"  she  said  again.  Her  Cousin  Noah  was 
watching  her  with  critical  eyes.  It  was  for  his  bene 
fit  she  was  thus  carelessly  frank.  He  should  see— 


i42  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"It  is  my  own  name  signed  to  it!"  cried  Peter 
Mintern,  too  astounded  to  hear  hurried  steps  cross 
ing  the  veranda  and  halting  at  the  door.  ' '  My  own 
name,  asking  you  to  go  home !  But  I  never  sent  it — 
never!  The  writing  is  that  of  Dick  Cardiff — Dick 
Cardiff,  I  tell  you!  And  in  the  face  of  this  evidence 
you  dare  tell  me,  madam,  that  he  is  not  mixed  up 
in  this?  Is  no  ways  accountable  for — 

"  Uncle  Mintern,"  said  Dick's  voice  from  the  door 
way,  "  I  did  my  best  to  catch  up  with  that  messen 
ger,  and  save  you  this  bewilderment.  The  man 
lost  the  road,  else  he  would  have  been  here  before 
this.  It  was  written  to  prevail  upon  Mrs.  Mintern 
to  return  to  your  home  without  delay.  Your  own 
message  of  almost  the  same  import  reached  here  an 
hour  or  so  earlier,  that  is  all.  Will  you  please  pre 
sent  me  to  Mr.  Marquand  whose  guest  I  became  in 
a  curious  way,  and  to  whom  I  owe  apologies?" 

"You — you  dare,  Dick  Cardiff,  to  face  me,  sir, 
after — after — 

"Yes,  sir.  Our  parting  was  not  friendly,  and  I 
regret  you  do  not  feel  like  extending  the  courtesy 
of  an  introduction.  But  my  friend,  Mr.  Kirkley, 
is  outside,  Mr.  Marquand,  and  will  be  pleased  to 
speak  for  me.  And  if  my  kinsman,  Mr.  Mintern, 
or  Mrs.  Mintern,  knows  any  reason  why  an  introduc 
tion  should  be  barred,  I  am  here  to  listen,  and  ask 
your  pardon  for  dragging  our  family  affairs  into  your 
parlor." 

"That  is  a  clear,  honest  statement,  Peter  Min 
tern,"  said  Marquand,  regarding  Dick  with  approving 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  143 

eyes.  "All  thee  has  brought  against  this  young 
man  is  that  he  sent  a  telegram  asking  thy  wife  to 
go  to  her  own  home  and  husband.  I  see  no  wrong 
in  that,  though  it  does  betray  some  curious  interest. 

"It  does,"  acknowledged  Dick.  "I  know  this 
man  who  really  attempted  to  take  Mrs.  Mintern 
from  her  home  at  Bay  side.  Knowing  the  cause  of 
Mrs.  Mintern's  quarrel  with  my  uncle,  I  did  what 
I  could  to  prevail  upon  her  to  return,  and  finally  I 
sent  that  telegram  to  second  my  persuasions." 

"And  why  all  this  interest  in  the  family  of  thy 
uncle?" 

"I  was  waiting  here  to  see  you  on  your  return, 
when  Mrs.  Mintern  arrived  unexpectedly.  Her 
husband  had  quarreled  with  me  only  a  day  before — 
had  misunderstood  some  act  of  mine.  I  knew  he 
would  not  approve  of  his  wife  meeting  me  here, 
when  he  was  not  on  speaking  terms  with  me.  I 
did  not  want  to  leave;  so  I  planned  that  Mrs.  Min 
tern  should  do  so.  That  is  all." 

"  But  she  knew  this  telegram  was  coming — she 
knew  it!  There  is  a  plot  in  this,  Noah!  Susanne, 
can't  you  speak?  What  have  you  to  say  of  all 
this?" 

"Nothing,"  she  answered,  petulantly.  "Only, 
what  he  says  about  the  telegram  is  true.  It  was 
sent  to  offer  me  a  reasonable  excuse  for  leaving 
quickly." 

"Excuse!  What  excuse  need  you  have  for 
returning  to  your  husband's  house?"  sputtered 
Mr.  Mintern,  angrily. 


144  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"Well,  when  I  was  almost  ordered  out,  and 
threatened  with  a  divorce,  it  seemed  I  did  need  some 
excuse  for  attempting  to  go  back,"  retorted  Susanne, 
with  a  wary  eye  to  the  effect  of  that  statement  on 
Noah  Marquand.  "  But  the  real  reason  for  the 
telegram  was  an  excuse  to  the  family  here  for  my 
sudden  going  away.  I  could  not  tell  them  that  my 
husband  had  quarreled  with  this  man,  and  would 
be  doubly  furious  if  he  heard  I  met  him  here.  I 
was  endeavoring  to  save  my  husband's  dignity. 
He,  it  seems,  is  not  so  careful." 

"Careful!  When  the  message  from  the  sheriff 
calls  me  here  to  find  the  miscreant  I  had  offered  the 
reward  for!  Careful!  When  my  own  wife  contin 
ues  to  hide  the  wretch  from  justice!  When  this 
man  here  confesses  he  knows  him,  yet  refuses  to  tell 
us  who  he  is!  Careful!  When  the  plots  on  every 
side  are  enough  to  drive  a  man  to  murder!  Hell 
and  furies!  Dick  Cardiff,  what  are  you  doing  here, 
anyway?" 

"I  am  waiting  to  explain  that  to  Mr.  Marquand 
and  his  daughter." 

"His  daughter!"  repeated  Peter  Mintern,  with 
much  impatience.  "What  has  the  girl  to  do  with 
all  this  muddle?" 

Susanne  glanced  at  Dick  and  laughed.  She  was 
not  telling,  but  she  was  not  making  it  easy  for  him ; 
and  his  jaws  set  stubbornly  as  he  turned  and-  gave 
her  one  long,  silencing  look. 

"Mr.  Marquand,"  he  said,  deliberately,  "my  rela 
tions  are  making  the  situation  as  difficult  as  possible 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  145 

for  me — the  man  because  he  does  not  know,  and  the 
woman  because  she  does.  Your  daughter  is,  indeed, 
the  very  central  cause  of  my  presence  here.  Mr. ' 
Kirkley  will  vouch  for  me,  if  my  family  will  not; 
and — I  ask  leave  to  call  when  you  are  less 
occupied." 

"To  call — concerning  my  daughter!"  repeated 
Noah  Marquand,  staring  at  Dick  with  a  frown  of 
disapproval.  "Young  man,  I  knew  thy  mother 
once,  and  was  prepared  to  hear  a  good  account  of 
her  son;  but  thy  own  relative  here  connects  thy 
name  with  a  most  disgraceful  affair.  Thee  explains 
not  one  word  to  really  clear  thyself  of  suspicion; 
yet  thee  supposes  my  daughter  and  I  will 
ignore  it  all.  My  daughter  has  no  cause  to  know 
thee." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  Uncle  Noah,"  said 
Dorothy,  putting  her  head  inside  the  window  in 
spite  of  Rob's  remonstrances.  "A  deputy  sheriff 
insulted  Jack  two  nights  ago.  Mr.  Cardiff  threw 
him  from  the  upper  veranda  to  the  lawn  below,  and 
I  think  he  cured  them  of  searching  this  house  for 
runaway  slaves  for  a  little  while." 

"You  did  this?"  demanded  Marquand. 

"Well,  there  was  nothing  else  to  do  just  then," 
returned  Dick.  "  But  I  did  not  know— 

"Thy  excuses  are  needless."  And  Marquand 
crossed  to  the  young  man  and  held  out  his  hand. 
"I  know  thee  inherited  slaves,  and  still  hold  them; 
but  thy  action  in  favor  of  runaways  I  shall  not 

forget." 
10 


i46  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"  It  was  for  your  daughter,  not  for  the  runaways," 
returned  Dick,  carelessly.  "  Faith,  I  was  a  runaway 
myself!" 

"Thee?" 

"You  see!"  broke  in  Peter  Mintern.  "He  con 
fesses  !  It  was  he  who  ran  from  that  offered  reward ! 
For  what  else  would  he  be  a  runaway?  Speak  out, 
Susanne!  You  know,  if  anyone  does.  Why  else 
should  Dick  Cardiff  be  a  runaway?" 

Susanne  did  not  speak;  she  only  looked  at  Dick 
and  smiled  indifferently.  Since  he  had  needlessly 
let  himself  in  for  the  game,  let  him  play  it  out! 

Again  Dorothy  filled  the  breach. 

"Uncle  Noah,"  she  said,  much  to  Dick's  surprise, 
"  I  think  /  know  how  Mr.  Cardiff  came  to  be  a  run 
away,  and  the  cause  does  him  credit.  He  ran  away 
to  shield  someone  else,  and  I've  an  idea  Mr.  Mintern 
should  be  thanking  him  instead  of  blaming  him. 
Mrs.  Mintern  was  not  backward  in  telling  Jack 
a  good  deal  about  it  to-day,  and  she  could  certainly 
tell  you  a  little  now." 

"  Little  girl,"  and  Dick  was  beside  her,  holding  her 
hand  in  his,  "do  you  know  what  was  told  to  Jack?" 

"Well,  she  heard  you  and  Mrs.  Mintern  quarrel 
ing.  Then  she  went  to  her  own  room  and  cried; 
and  when  her  cousin  followed  her  there,  and  told 
her  things  of  your  money  and  your  possessions- 
well,  Jack  said  some  hard  things,  and  I  heard  them, 
and- 

"What  kind  of  things?"  persisted  Dick.  "Mr. 
Marquand,  have  a  little  patience  with  us.  I  need  a 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  147 

friend  here,  and  this  young  lady  seems  to  be  the  only 
one  on  my  side.     And  Jack  said?" 

"Jack  said  she  never  thought  of  your  money. 
She  did  not  know  about  it.  She  did  not  even  know 
that  Cardiff  was  your  real  name,  and  she  thought 
you  \vere  the  runaway  white  slave  the  sheriff  was 
after.  That  was  why  she  tried  to  conceal  you  till" 
—she  hesitated  and  glanced  at  Marquand — "till 
she  could  have  help  for  your  escape.  You  had  one 
reason  for  leaving  Maryland,  and  Jack  thought  it 
was  another— that  is  all.  But  there  have  been 
some  big  mistakes  all  around,  and  the  trouble  of  it 
seems  to  have  all  come  on  Jack's  shoulders.  She's 
very  miserable,  and  someone  ought  to  be  made  to 
pay  for  it!" 

"Someone  shall  pay  for  it,  little  girl,"  said  Dick, 
quietly. 

"  A  runaway  slave ! "  Marquand  was  staring  hard 
at  Dick.  "Thee  made  such  pretense  to  get  into 
my  house — to  learn— 

"Don't  think  it!"  broke  in  Dick.  "There  was 
a  mistake  on  your  daughter's  part  as  to  my  identity, 
and  I  did  take  advantage  of  it — not  for  the  purpose 
you  think,  but  for  the  most  natural  reason  in  the 
world  for  any  man  who  saw  her  and  had  just  that 
one  chance  to  remain  for  even  a  day  beside  her.  I 
did  not  mean  to  tell  you  about  it  in  this  way;  but, 
after  all,  any  company  is  good  enough  to  tell  the 
truth  in!" 

"By  Caesar!"  sputtered  Peter  Mintern,  thumping 
the  arm  of  his  chair  furiously.  "  The  sheriff  trailing 


148  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

him  on  account  of  kidnaping  my  wife,  and  he  twists 
himself  out  of  it  by  proposing  for  your  daughter!" 

Noah  waved  him  to  silence. 

"Must  I  understand  that  my  daughter  knows  the 
reason?" 

"She  does  now."  And  Dick  faced  the  frowning 
face  squarely.  "I  had  to  tell  her — though  it  was 
little  consolation  I  got  for  my  honesty.  She  be 
lieves,  instead,  the  story  my  uncle  has  told  you." 

"Well,  young  man,  then  what  does  thee  intend?" 

"Intend?  I'll  never  leave  the  county  till  she 
believes  the  truth — that's  all!  " 

"But  I  cannot  countenance  such— 

"You  will  give  countenance  to  justice?" 

"Surely." 

"That  is  all  I  ask.  Your  daughter  was  an  angel 
of  mercy  to  me  when  she  thought  I  needed  help; 
and  if  this  vile  story  had  not  reached  her  ears  I 
should  not  have  feared  to  take  my  chances.  But 
now — well,  there  is  only  one  thing  left  to  do." 

"Pray,  what  is  that?"  asked  Susanne,  with 
assumed  carelessness.  "You  have  got  yourself 
doubly  tangled  up  by  this  last  love  affair  of 
yours,  Dick.  I  am  interested  to  know  how  it  is 
to  end." 

"Not  by  taking  any  longer  the  other  man's 
blame,  Mrs.  Mintern,"  he  said,  curtly.  "There  is 
but  one  man  who  can  clear  me.  I  shall  start  to-day 
to  find  him,  and  if  he  does  not  confess  the  truth 
the  next  bullet  will  find  better  lodging  than  the 
last." 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  149 

"Noah,  that  is  Gleason  he  means — Gleason! 
By  Caesar !  I  knew  it !  I  told  you  so !  Here  we  have 
the  man  the  reward  is  out  for!  He  has  as  much  as 
confessed  it!  He — 

"One  moment,  Mr.  Mintern,  before  you  ask  for 
chains  and  handcuffs  for  Dick,"  said  Kirkley,  who 
had  followed  Dorothy  into  the  room.  "  Did  you 
offer  the  reward  for  the  man  who  shot  Captain 
Gleason  or  for  the  man  who  planned  to  carry  your 
wife  away  on  your  own  horse  that  night?" 

"I — why,  confound  your  impudence,  whoever 
you  are!  How  can  you  separate  them?  It  was 
the  same  man — the  same — 

"Oh,  no,  it  wasn't,"  said  Dick,  quietly;  and 
Susanne  turned  white  as  she  half  rose,  and  then 
sank  back  into  the  chair,  conscious  that  the  eyes 
of  Noah  Marquand  were  on  her,  and  that  their 
expression  was  in  the  last  degree  critical. 

"No,  it  wasn't,  Uncle  Mintern.  They  were  two 
entirely  different  persons.  I,  the  man  who  shot 
your  friend,  Captain  Gleason,  was  only  one  of  them." 

"You  own  to  your  villiany!     You  confess!" 

"Yes!  And  now  I'm  going  to  find  your  friend, 
Gleason,  and  let  him  tell  you  who  the  other  man  is. 
You're  right,  little  girl,"  he  said,  patting  Dorothy's 
hair  kindly.  "Jack  has  been  made  miserable,  and 
the  right  people  must  pay  for  it.  I  ask  your  pardon, 
Mr.  Marquand,  for— 

"Mans  Dick!  Mahs  Dick!"  called  a  breathless 
voice  on  the  lawn.  And  when  Dick  crossed  to  the 
door,  Nat  fairly  stumbled  up  the  stairs. 


150  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

"He's  gone!"  he  gasped.  "He  done  hired  that 
driver  to  turn  'roun'  in  his  tracks,  an'  go  lickety 
split  back  to  the  railroad  fo'  the  nex'  train!  Took 
the  back  track  soon  as  you  all  got  out  o'  sight! 
Tumbled  me  out  in  the  road  like  a  sack  o'  meal! 
An' — an'  he  done  sen'  his  compliments  to  you, 
Mahs  Dick,  an'  say  he  hope  the  sheriff  not  only 
cotch  yo',  but  hang  yo'  high  as  Hamen  nex'  time 
yo'  take  it  on  yo'se'f  to  interfere  in  a  gnetleman's 
amusements!  An'  he  say  his  boat  will  beat  yo' 
railroad  trains,  an'-  Look  out  fo'  missy!  She's 
a-fallen'!" 

Susanne  had,  in  fact,  risen  to  her  feet,  and,  sway 
ing  unsteadily  for  an  instant,  sunk  in  a  heap  beside 
the  chair.  Dorothy  sprang  to  her  assistance, 
and  Kirkley,  at  a  nod  from  her,  called  Tabitha  and 
a  maid. 

But  Noah  Marquand  stared  hard  at  Kirkley  and 
Dick  for  an  instant,  and  then  turned  to  Peter  Mintern. 

"Peter,"  he  said,  quietly,  "the  young  man  rode 
here  to  face  this  question  instead  of  shirking  it,  and 
to  me  it  seems  not  the  first  favor  he  has  rendered 
thee.  That  other  man  has  taken  to  flight  rather 
than  see  again  the  man  who  has  already  interfered 
with  his  amusements.  Does  not  this  tell  thee  its 
own  story?" 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Marquand.  If — if  you  will 
only  persuade  your  daughter  of  its  truth!" 

"Time  enough — time  enough  for  that,"  said 
Noah,  gently.  "  I  like  thy  spirit,  lad ;  and  if  Jacqcyn- 
thia  thinks — But  never  mind  that  now!  Peter, 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  151 

thee  thanked  thy  friend,  the  captain,  with  many 
words  and  much  care.  Has  thee  no  word  for  thy 
kinsman,  and  my  guest?" 

"He  might  have  told  me  the  truth  at  first!" 
growled  Mr.  Mintern. 

"What  use?"  retorted  Dick.  "You  believed 
Gleason's  lies  that  night — the  lies  he  told  of  me  to 
take  suspicion  from  his  own  plans.  You  would 
have  believed  him  again.  I  thought  I'd  killed  the 
man — that's  why  I  got  away.  I  did  not  want  to 
face  that  story  with  your  wife  in  it ;  but  when  he 
made  up  that  fiction— 

"And  she  echoed  it!"  broke  in  Peter,  with  sudden 
insight.  "She!  Then  it  was  Captain  Gleason  she 
shielded  from  me!  And  I — by  Caesar!  I— 

"  Gently,  Uncle  Mintern ! "  said  Dick.  "  What  else 
could  she  do,  with  the  man  wounded  on  your  hands. 
Perhaps  she  was  afraid  you'd  kill  him.  The  fact 
that  she  refused  to  help  nurse  him  should  stand  in  her 
favor — even  refused  to  stay  in  the  house  with  him!" 

"By  Caesar!  So  she  did!  Dick,  my  boy,  you're 
a  trump!  You  shot  him  down  to  save  my  wife 
after  I'd  almost  ordered  you  from  the  house!  I 
was  the  fool,  Dick!  But  how  was  I  to  know?  You 
were  not  there— and  Susanne  afraid  to  speak — 
afraid  I'd  kill  the  villain  if  I  knew!  Poor  little 
Susanne!  Poor  little  woman !" 

And  as  poor  Susanne  was  opening  her  eyes  and 
beginning  to  take  notice,  the  other  men  silently 
filed  out  of  the  living  room  and  left  her  with  her 
contrite  husband  and  Tabitha. 


152  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

Dorothy  also  slipped  out  and  joined  the  others, 
and  managed  to  say  to  Dick  a  few  words  even  Rob 
was  not  allowed  to  hear. 

"Don't  be  too  discouraged  over  what  Jack  may 
have  said  to-day,"  she  whispered.  "She  took  her 
horse  and  left  for  the  woods,  or  the  fields,  because 
she's  just  heartbroken  over  it  all.  I  think  some 
one  ought  to  go  and  look  for  her." 

Of  what  Kirkley  and  Dorothy  and  Tabitha  told 
Noah  Marquand  of  those  three  days  of  his  absence, 
there  is  no  record;  and  of  what  he  and  Dick  talked 
for  an  hour  in  the  arbor,  can  be  left  to  conjecture. 
But  at  the  finale  of  the  arbor  talk  Noah  nodded  his 
head,  and  said,  kindly: 

"Thee  may  try.  I  can  say  no  more  than  that. 
The  mischief  was  in  part  my  own  doing.  I  should 
have  sent  back  word  I  had  met  the  two  colored 
men  from  Maryland  three  miles  from  here  that 
morning  I  went  away.  I  took  them  to  the  city  as 
my  servants,  and  they  were  on  their  way  to  friends 
and  out  of  all  danger  before  I  started  home.  As 
to  Jaqcynthia,  I  do  nothing  to  influence  my  child 
— nothing.  But  thee  may  ride  after  her,  and  thee 
may  tell  her  I  sent  you  to  bring  her  home." 

He  had  not  far  to  ride.  A  mile  away,  on  a  hill, 
there  was  a  belt  of  woods,  and  along  a  timber  trail 
he  tracked  her  filly's  steps ;  then  ahead,  clear  against 
the  rosy  glow  of  the  lowering  sun,  he  saw  her  pacing 
to  and  fro  over  last  year's  dead  leaves ;  and  only  when 
he  was  very  close  did  she  hear  his  step  and  look  up, 
shrinking  fom  the  sight  of  him  with  a  cry  of  protest. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  153 

But  this  time  he  did  not  halt  at  her  look  and  ges 
ture,  as  he  had  done  on  the  lawn.  This  time  he 
could  see  her  eyes  heavy  with  the  weight  of  tears; 
the  white,  wretched  face  of  a  woman  fighting  a 
life  battle  that  was  not  easy. 

"Sweetheart,  your  father  sent  me  to  ride  home 
with  you,"  he  said,  with  pleading  in  his  eyes.  "  Will 
you  not  listen  to  me  now?  I  shan't  try  to  tell  you 
what  you  are  to  me — I  can't!  But  let  me  prove 
what  I  may  be  to  you." 

"Thee  can  be  nothing — ever!"  she  said,  in  a 
voice  low  and  striving  for  steadiness.  "Go  back 
and  tell  Noah  Marquand  that  his  daughter  will  ride 
alone  forever  rather  than  ride  beside  a  murderer,  a 
profligate,  the  lover  of  other  men's  wives!" 

"My  Quaker  maid!"  he  said,  shaking  his  head 
and  smiling  at  her.  "  I  am  the  lover  of  but  one 
woman.  Look  at  me!  Your  anger  I  can  endure, 
for  your  father  will  tell  you  I  have  not  deserved  it; 
but  from  the  one  woman  I  want  love  only,  and  I 
am  at  her  feet.  Look  at  me!" 

She  threw  back  her  head,  and  turned  on  him  a 
look  of  burning  rage — a  dull  fury  of  resentment 
that  he  could  make  her  feel  all  she  had  felt  of  joy, 
of  horror,  of  wild,  undreamed-of  passions  tingling, 
from  her  heart  to  her  lips  in  waves  of  feeling. 

She  knew — and  fought  against  the  knowledge — 
that,  let  him  be  ever  so  fine  a  gentleman  of  blood, 
of  birth,  of  all  worldly  eminence;  let  her  be  the 
daughter  of  generations  of  sedate  Quakers,  yet  the 
appeal  he  made,  and  to  which  she  responded, 


154  MY  QUAKER  MAID 

reached  back  beyond  all  convention,  back  to  the 
appeal  of  savage  to  savage — or  of  god  to  god ! 

Which  was  it  that  swept  across  the  gray-toned 
page  of  her  life  aad  left  the  lurid  crimson  there?— 
the  sign  by  which  she  knew  that  her  own  life  would 
never  more  be  her  own  only;  the  sign  she  knew 
sealed  a  bond  between  herself  and  the  man  who 
could  never  be  to  her  the  Dick  Cardiff  the  world 
knew!  To  her  he  would  be  always  that  unnamed 
creature  of  mystery  who  had  looked  into  her  eyes 
that  once  in  the  moonlight  under  the  cedars. 

When  she  had  turned  and  looked  at  him  at  his  com 
mand,  she  had  meant  to  express  only  her  passionate 
protest  against  the  power  she  would  never  acknowl 
edge  ;  to  send  him  from  her,  to  trample  under  foot — 

Then  her  scornful  eyes  met  his  steady  gaze,  she 
trembled  through  all  her  graceful  length,  put  her 
hand  out  blindly  to  a  tree  back  of  her,  and  stood, 
facing  that  compelling  appeal  in  his  eyes — the 
sovereignty  of  a  love  absolute,  claiming  only  its 
own  when  it  claimed  her ! 

With  a  shivering,  drawn  breath  that  was  half  a 
cry  of  despair,  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"My  Quaker  maid!"  he  whispered,  as  he  drew 
her  close  in  his  arms,  and  touched  with  his  lips  the 
hands  and  the  burning  eyes  they  tried  to  hide. 
"Neither  of  us  will  ever  be  strong  enough  to  fight 
against  this  love  of  ours.  Why  will  you  try?" 

The  dusk  had  fallen  when  they  left  the  belt  of 
timber  and  walked  their  horses  slowly,  slowly  toward 
the  homestead. 


MY  QUAKER  MAID  155 

They  found  Noah  Marquand  waiting  for  them 
at  the  gate;  while  Dorothy  and  Rob  remained  dis 
creetly  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  veranda. 

Susanne,  the  misjudged,  had  agreed  to  forgive 
her  husband  if  he  took  her  away  at  once,  which  he 
accordingly  had  done.  And  with  them  went  the 
last  of  the  three  days  of  discord  in  the  house  of  the 
cedars. 

Noah  listened  gravely  to  what  Dick  had  to  say  to 
him  that  evening,  and  smiled  a  little  at  the  impetu 
osity  of  those  days  of  strangest  wooing  ever  known, 
and  shook  his  head  in  doubt  as  he  took  Dick's  hand. 

"That  thee  means  to  be  a  'Quaker,  or  any  other 
thing,  for  her  sake'  is  scarcely  to  be  desired,"  he 
said,  quietly.  "To  be  one's  self  best  becomes  a 
man.  This  mad  wooing  has  been,  I  fear,  too  wild 
to  last ;  yet  if  it  prove  not  so,  she  may  go  to  thee 
—some  day.  Is  that  not  her  dress  in  the  path  by 
the  cedars?  Tell  her  the  night  air  is  not  without 
danger  at  this  season." 

But  Lady  Moon,  emerging  later  from  a  lacy  veil 
of  fog  along  the  river,  found  two  lovers  still  there 
in  the  shadows — unafraid  of  the  night. 


COMRADES 

A  day  of  exploding  shells  and  raining  bullets ;  of 
charging  columns,  and  that  roar  of  a  thousand  guns 
that  prevents  a  man  hearing  the  report  of  his  own 
musket  as  he  touches  the  trigger. 

And  between  New  Creek  Mountain  and  the  cool 
waters  of  the  Northern  Potomac  the  blue  and  the 
gray  fought,  with  all  the  ardor  of  patriotism,  the 
battle  of  Piedmont. 

A  detachment  of  Hunter's  men  held  in  reserve 
were  bestirring  themselves,  with  what  haste  they 
could,  to  prepare  a  mid-day  meal,  that  they  might 
secure  it  and  perhaps  also  get  some  repose,  before 
being  ordered  forward — an  order  momentarily  ex 
pected;  for  even  in  the  roar  of  battles  tired  men 
sleep,  if  a  space  of  rest  is  allowed,  and  especially  do 
they  eat. 

But  provisions  were  scarce  along  that  mountain 
district.  Troops  had  been  quartered  for  so  many 
months  through  that  section  of  Northern  Virginia 
that  not  a  feathered  fowl  nor  a  stall-fed  beef  was  left 
in  all  the  land,  and  one  of  the  mess  of  the  Sixtieth 
Ohio  grumbled  over  the  hardtack  and  black  coffee. 
"Never  mind,  Clay,"  grinned  one  of  his  neighbors. 
' '  We  '11  be  sent  to  the  front  before  long  if  there 's 


158  COMRADES 

anything  in  signs,  and  thin  rations  may  stand  you  in 
good  stead  then.  You'll  not  be  so  wide  a  target  for 
the  Johnnies." 

"Well,"  remarked  the  good-humored  fellow 
called  Clay,  "s'pose  I  do  want  good  strong  feed! 
I  reckon  the  Johnnies  will  keep  us  hustling  if  we 
whip  them,  even  on  a  full  stomach;  and  I  don't 
mean  to  let  myself  grow  weak  on  the  warpath  if  I 
can  help  it." 

'That's  the  reason  why  he  sticks  so  close  to 
Zachary  Taylor,"  commented  another.  "Did  you 
ever  see  such  a  forager  as  that  boy  is?  " 

' '  Pretty  good,"  acknowledged  Clay.  ' '  Have  any 
of  you  fellows  seen  him  since  we  halted?" 

No  one  had.  In  vain  they  made  inquiries  of  the 
various  boys  in  blue.  Each  was  at  the  moment 
taking  possession  of  the  hasty  refreshments,  and 
had  little  time  to  give  thought  to  an  absent 
stranger.  "Pie's  likely  prowlen  around  some 
farm  house  looken  for  chickens,"  said  Tom  Henley. 
' '  Or  maybe  the  racket  along  the  line  has  scared  him 
into  taking  to  the  mountains.  He's  never  been  in 
a  regular  full-blown  battle,  you  know,  and  I  guess 
we  are  pretty  near  the  place  where  he  said  he  was 
brought  up — ain't  we?"  The  question  being  ad 
dressed  to  Clay,  who  was  supposed  to  know. 

But  Clay  shook  his  head  and  gulped  down  the 
black  coffee. 

No,  Zach  never  saw  this  region  before ;  he 's  from 
Pennsylvania,  a  little  north  of  this.  Told  me  he  never 
was  out  of  the  county  he  was  born  in  till  he  went 


COMRADES  159 

down  the  river  on  a  raft,  and  was  so  frightened  at 
the  water  getting  wider  and  wider,  that  at  last  he 
just  dropped  off  on  the  Ohio  side  and  swore  he'd 
stick  to  land  and  let  anybody  float  who  wanted  to. 
Then  he  listed  with  the  rest  of  us  raw  recruit  fellows. 
That 's  about  all  he  ever  says  of  himself.  Never  had 
any  schooling  back  in  the  mountains.  It  seems  as 
if  they  never  thought  him  much  good  at  home,  and 
that 's  why  he  took  to  the  raft." 

' '  He  ain't  much  good  with  a  musket,"  remarked 
Henley.  ' '  Say,  boys,  do  you  mind  the  day  he  told 
our  captain  he  'd  rather  fill  his  pockets  full  of  stones 
to  fight  the  rebs  with,  than  to  carry  a  gun  and  bother 
loading  it?  " 

And  the  "boys"  laughed  at  the  memory  of  their 
genial  captain 's  mirth  and  commented  on  the  absent 
mountaineer,  prophesying  that  when  ordered  to  the 
front ' '  Zach"  would  be  missing. 

"He'll  make  a  sneak  like  he  did  off  the  raft," 
suggested  one.  ' '  I  tell  you  a  man  who  is  afraid  of 
river  water,  and  who  don 't  like  even  to  carry  a  gun, 
can't  make  much  of  a  soldier." 

But  Clay  Todd  contested  the  statement.  ' '  Maybe 
if  he  had  a  good  reason  for  shooting  he'd  pull  a 
trigger  with  any  of  you.  You  like  to  laugh  at  him 
because  he'd  save  his  lead  and  throw  stones  where 
the  rest  of  you  would  empty  your  cartridge  belts  for 
a  trifle.  I  take  notice  the  stones  he  flings  always 
reach  their  mark." 

"Oh,  yes;  he  can  throw  stones  and  whistle," 
acknowledged  Tom,  ' '  and  if  he  'd  only  drop  into 


160  COMRADES 

mess  with  a  canteen  of  '  mountain  dew  '  I  'd  give 
him  license  to  do  both  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  and  by 
the  great  horn  spoon!  Here  he  comes." 

The  individual  approaching  had  two  canteens 
slung  around  his  neck,  and  was  whistling  a  quick 
step  though  keeping  no  time  to  it  with  his  feet.  A 
tall,  hulking  youth  he  was,  who  looked  lazily  around 
at  the  hurry  and  bustle,  and  halted  once  to  listen  to 
the  thunder  of  the  guns  at  the  front. 

"Had  dinner?"  he  inquired  in  a  soft,  apologetic 
sort  of  voice.  ' '  I  calculated  on  getting  up  to  you 
before  this,  and  having  some  warm  things  for  the 
mess.  If  it  ain't  too  late,  here  it  is." 

The  donation  was  two  canteens  of  whiskey,  and 
some  pink  and  white  chunks  of  freshly  killed  pork. 

"March  pig,"  he  commented,  as  he  emptied  it 
from  his  haversack,  ' '  and  it  makes  the  nicest  kind 
of  fryen  meat  for  them  as  cares  for  it,  and  I  allow 
you  would,  Clay." 

In  a  twinkling  the  meat  was  in  thin  strips  and 
being  roasted  over  the  coals  on  the  points  of  bayo 
nets,  while  the  "mountain  dew"  was  passed 
around  impartially. 

"Where  did  you  fall  on  all  this,  Zach?"  asked 
Henley,  remorsefully  grateful,  and  reaching  for  quite 
as  large  a  share  as  Todd.  ' '  I  just  supposed  you 
were  out  foraging,  or  else  running  away  from  the 
thunder  over  there." 

1 '  This  is  a  bad  sort  of  country  to  run  in,"  returned 
the  lazy  looking  mountain  boy,  who  had  enlisted  as 
Zachary  Taylor  Dorbett.  "  'Most  as  bad  as  the 


COMRADES  161 

country  I  come  from.  If  half  the  hills  were  shoved 
into  the  hollows  it  would  make  easier  travellen.  And 
I  didn't  fall  over  the  provender.  I  paid  for  the 
liquor,  and  keeled  the  pig  over  with  a  stone.  It 
was  in  a  pen  on  a  porch,  and  must  have  been  a  pet. 
I  swear  it  seemed  sort  of  low  down  to  kill  him,  but  I 
only  cut  off  a  part  and  left  the  rest  there  for  the 
owner;  and  I  was  mighty  careful  not  to  make  a 
noise.  I  tell  you  now,  men,  I'm  getting  even  more 
triflen  than  they  used  to  call  me  at  home,  for  I  never 
did  steal  when  I  was  home." 

' '  Eat  your  own  share  of  the  dinner,  and  don 't 
waste  time,"  suggested  his  messmate.  "We  are 
likely  to  be  called  out  any  minute." 

' '  What  for?"  asked  Zachary,  mildly  curious.  And 
his  lazy,  innocent  blue  eyes  seemed  stupid  to  the 
others,  as  Henley  grinned  and  nodded  towards  the 
firing. 

' '  We  are  likely  to  be  the  next  to  move  up  to  the 
front,"  he  remarked.  ' '  How  do  you  feel  about  it?" 

Zachary  stooped  and  picked  up  some  playing 
cards,  flung  in  the  grass  by  some  soldier  preparing 
for  battle — perhaps  death. 

The  mountaineer  shuffled  them  from  one  hand 
to  the  other  with  clumsy  fingers,  unused  to  such 
manipulations.  ' '  I  don 't  know  as  I  'm  feeling  about 
it  at  all,"  he  answered  quietly.  ' '  It  kind  of  vexes 
me  though  when  I  hear  them  cannon.  Some  of 
these  days  all  of  them  great  captains  will  get 
together  from  both  sides  and  conclude  to  stop  the 

racket,  and  I  'd  like  to  know  why  their  brains  don 't 
11 


162  COMRADES 

tell  them  to  do  it  before  any  more  men  are  slauhg- 
tered  with  them  infernal  cannons.  That's  about 
how  I  feel  over  it." 

Henley's  eyes  met  those  of  Todd  in  a  smile. 
Every  man  of  the  mess  but  Todd  had  decided  that  the 
lazy  mannered  Zachary  would  be  cowardly  in  the 
event  of  battle.  He  had  in  him  the  mildness  of 
a  non-combative  sheep,  and  his  speech  proved  that 
he  had  none  of  the  spirit  of  battle  which  pushes 
warriors  to  the  defense  of  their  principles — their 
honor.  And  even  Todd,  who  had  taken  a  sort  of 
liking  to  the  soft -toned,  hulking  fellow,  wished  he 
would  talk  a  little  more  like  a  soldier. 

And  then  the  bugle  sounded.  The  waited  for 
summons  had  come.  They  were  wanted  at  the 
front. 

Zachary  arose,  his  toasted  pork  sizzling  on  his 
bayonet,  from  which  the  grease  dripped  as  he  went — 
the  most  un warlike  picture  one  could  imagine. 

1 '  Where  do  they  want  us?  "  he  asked,  and  slouch 
ed  along  at  Todd 's  heels. 

"Come!  Fall  in,  men!"  commanded  an  officer. 
' '  Here,  you  straggler  of  Company  E,  do  you  fancy 
this  is  a  blanked  banquet?  Well,  it  is  not,  nor  a 
dress  parade  either,  as  you'll  find  out.  Drop  that 
bacon  and  fall  in." 

Zachary  dropped  the  bacon — into  his  mouth,  and 
sidled  into  his  place  in  the  ranks,  with  his  big  blue 
eyes  resting  benevolently  on  the  annoyed  face  of 
his  officer. 

And  the  officer,  amused  at  the  incongruous  figure, 


COMRADES  163 

turned  his  back  sharply  on  the  greasy -mouthed 
Zachary,  to  hide  his  smile,  and  proceeded  to  issue 
commands  for  the  quick  forming  of  the  men,  all  the 
while  silently  sympathizing  with  himself  and  mut 
tering  about  the  "stupid  louts"  out  of  whom  he 
was  supposed  to  manufacture  soldiers. 

' '  Some  of  those  greenhorns  will  have  to  fight 
better  than  their  appearance  promises  or  they  will 
put  a  mighty  black  mark  on  the  regiment,"  he 
prophesied  darkly ;  and,  in  scanning  the  lines,  his 
sombre  gaze  once  more  chanced  to  fall  on  the  placid, 
irresponsible  countenance  of  the  company's  jest — 
Zachary. 

Then  the  lines  in  front  began  to  move  to  the  in 
spiring  quickstep  of  the  band,  and  Company  E  fell 
into  the  current  and  was  swept  on — on  to  battle. 
In  where  the  fight  had  raged  they  marched,  across 
the  battle  ground  from  which  the  Confederates  had 
so  lingeringly  retreated  and  up  further  still,  toward 
what  Zachary  was  told  was  "the  front,"  and  where 
the  enemy  was  yet  making  a  defiant  stand. 

Once,  as  the  wind  blew  the  smoke  away  to  one 
side,  Zachary  perceived  other  ranks  than  those  of 
his  own  regiment,  moving  on  their  right,  and  when 
he  saw  the  open  spaces  between  the  lines  of  men  as 
they  swung  around  he  thought  of  the  even  rows  of 
standing  corn  he  had  hoed  so  often  in  Pennsylvania 's 
hills. 

"Who  are  they?  "  he  asked,  curious  as  a  child, 
though  he  was  marching  possibly  to  death. 

"Oh,    that's  the  regiment  the  boys  were  talking 


164  COMRADES 

of  in  camp  last  night,"  returned  Clay  Todd,  who 
was  on  his  left.  ' '  The  regiment  they  said  showed  the 
'  white  feather'  in  the  battle  of  Burk's  Landing." 

"They  look  nice  and  shiny,"  observed  the  moun 
taineer.  The  next  instant  his  company  was  ordered 
forward  on  the  double-quick,  and  descending  a  knoll 
he  saw  reaching  out  before  him  the  terrible  tempest 
of  battle. 

"My  God!  Look  at  that!"  said  Clay,  half  un 
consciously,  as  a  field  piece  pointing  towards  them 
from  across  the  level  belched  forth  its  fury,  and  a 
great  swath  of  men  in  blue  were  mowed  down  as 
when  a  scythe  is  swung  through  the  grass  of  the 
meadows. 

"It's  hell  let  loose — that's  what  it  is,"  said 
Zachary,  and  he  gripped  his  musket  tighter  as  he 
trotted  forward.  He  saw  their  captain  and  heard 
the  quick,  sharp  commands,  but  Zachary  did  not 
heed  them  much.  It  was  easier  to  just  watch  the 
rest  and  do  as  they  did,  as  they  advanced  on  the 
enemy,  firing  volleys  at  regular  intervals  as  they 
went.  The  smoke  was  so  thick  that  he  could 
scarcely  see  at  what  he  was  firing ;  but  he  could  see 
the  flag  there  ahead  and  had  a  half  formed  idea  that 
they  must  all  keep  up  to  the  flag.  That  was  just 
about  the  extent  of  his  knowledge  of  military  tactics, 
after  all  the  drilling  he  had  gone  through. 

Then  somehow  in  the  turmoil  he  drifted  away 
from  his  one  friend,  Clay  Todd,  and  the  faces  about 
him  were  seen  as  in  a  mist  and  whirl  of  tempests. 
But  the  men  wore  blue  coats  and  were  firing  at  the 


COMRADES  165 

grays,  who  held  a  knoll ;  and  he  fired  when  they  did 
and  kept  his  eye  on  the  flag. 

And  then  something  happened.  Right  before 
him  a  great  shell  burst,  and  men  fell  in  every  direc 
tion.  For  one  instant  he  saw  the  man  who  carried 
the  flag  whirl  around  like  a  top,  and  then  the  flag 
wavered  in  his  dying  hand. 

But  it  did  not  fall.  Zachary  never  knew  how  he 
reached  the  man's  side;  but  he  leaped  over  the 
mangled  bodies  before  him  and  caught  both  the  flag 
and  its  bearer. 

The  bearer  was  a  man  with  gray  in  his  hair,  and 
he  leaned  heavily  on  Zachary 's  arm  and  clutched  at 
the  flagstaff  for  support ;  then  realizing  that  earthly 
help  was  past  for  him,  he  relinquished  the  colors  an^ 
looked  up  into  the  tall  mountaineer's  face. 

"You  take  it,"  he  whispered,  "and  to  the  front 
— there — to — the — front!  " 

Zachary  nodded,  and  eased  the  man  to  the  ground, 
from  where  he  never  arose,  and  a  new  color  bearer 
carried  the  flag  forward. 

All  was  crash,  crash  about  him.  He  heard  no 
orders  from  officers.  The  crack  of  the  rifles,  the 
thunder  of  the  cannon,  the  cheers,  the  groans  of  the 
dying,  were  whirling  together  in  his  brain. 

He  realized  that  he  was  in  a  clear,  open  space. 
Before  him  was  a  level  field ;  and  beyond  that,  on  a 
rise,  the  mass  of  gray-garbed  men,  and  the  white 
line  of  smoke  floating  upwards  from  their  guns. 

He  turned  once  to  see  where  the  bluecoats  were, 
and  found  they  were  behind  him,  and  seemed  to  be 


166  COMRADES 

wavering.  He  heard  furious  commands  and  oaths 
from  his  captain,  while  from  the  right  there  swept  in 
that  regiment  he  had  thought  so  nice  and  shiny. 

He  saw  their  colors  floating  proudly  above  the 
thin  blue-white  smoke — the  colors  of  that  regiment 
which  the  men  said  had  shown  the  ' '  white  feather" 
once ;  and  it  was  going  into  action  ahead  of  his  own 
company.  That  other  man,  the  man  who  carried 
that  other  flag,  was  going  up  where  he  had  been  told 
to  go  by  their  grizzled  color  bearer.  And  his  own 
flag!  He  looked  up  where  its  graceful  folds 
floated  softly  above  him.  Was  it  to  waver  in  his 
hands? — to  go  back  to  the  rear,  while  that  other 
regiment,  called  cowardly,  took  first  place? 

He  had  never  been  taught  a  prayer  in  his  life,  but 
something  like  one  arose  to  his  lips  as  he  looked  back 
at  his  own  company. 

"Oh,  God — come  on!"  he  muttered,  and  waving 
his  hat  to  them  he  started  ahead,  alone,  for 
that  knoll  on  the  crest  of  which  the  enemy  was 
entrenched. 

He  heard  shouts  behind  him,  but  he  never  halted 
until  he  had  dashed  past  the  line  of  that  other  regi 
ment.  He  expected  with  every  step  the  shot  that 
would  kill  him  as  had  been  killed  the  other  color 
bearer,  but  he  felt  a  grim  determination  that  it 
should  kill  him  ahead  of  that  other  flag,  and  not 
behind  it. 

When  he  had  passed  them  all  he  stopped  at  a 
shout  from  behind  him.  It  was  a  command  from 
his  captain,  who  was  hastening  furiously  ahead  of 


COMRADES  167 

the  line  to  prevent  both  bearer  and  flag  from  falling 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

"Come  back,  you  fool!" — he  shouted,  "come 
back!  Bring  the  colors  back  to  the  regiment!  " 

Zachary  lifted  the  flagstaff  and  drove  it  down 
furiously  in  the  meadow  soil. 

"Bring  your  regiment  up  to  the  colors,  Captain," 
he  shouted  stubbornly.  ' '  For  I  '11  be  damned  if  this 
flag  retreats  while  I  carry  it." 

The  men  of  his  own  regiment  could  not  hear  his 
words,  but  the  action  spoke  for  itself,  it  was  so  elo 
quent  with  meaning.  And,  with  a  cheer  that  leaped 
upwards  to  heaven,  the  boys  of  Ohio  swept  forward 
to  first  place  in  the  front  line — nor  relinquished  it 
until  the  day  was  won. 

Zachary  watched  them  coming,  and  a  large,  lazy 
smile  broke  over  his  face,  as  he  looked  from  the 
elevation  he  had  reached,  and  complacently  eyed 
that  other  flag,  now  in  the  rear  of  the  ranks  of  his 
own  regiment. 

Then  a  ball  struck  his  arm  and  stung  like  a  burn 
and  his  wrist  dropped,  nerveless,  and  the  flag  had  to 
be  held  in  his  left  hand. 

From  that  on  all  was  a  tempest  about  him,  and  he 
no  more  stood  alone.  His  comrades  were  fighting 
around  him,  and  he  did  not  know  whether  they  were 
following  him,  or  only  bearing  him  with  them;  but 
all  together  they  were  advancing  on  the  knoll.  Once 
he  stumbled  over  a  dying  man,  and  in  the  new  awk 
wardness  of  his  wounded  arm,  he  could  not  recover 
himself  quickly,  and  the  flag  wavered  with  him 
downwards. 


168  COMRADES 

"The  colors  are  down!"  some  voice  shouted, 
and  then  there  was  a  cheer.  He  thought  it  was  a 
cheer  from  the  Southern  men,  and  he  recovered  him 
self  and  lunged  forward  in  a  sort  of  fury  up  the  steep 
bit  of  bank  the  enemy  had  fought  so  valiantly  to 
hold. 

"The  colors  are  up!  "called  Zachary  over  all  the 
turmoil ;  and  holding  the  flagstaff  against  his  breast 
with  the  elbow  of  his  wounded  arm,  he  used  the 
other  for  assistance  and  defense,  as  he  dug  his 
fingers  into  the  bullet-riddled  bank  and  pulled  him 
self  up  to  the  summit. 

Two  gray-clad  arms  lunged  at  him  with  a  bayonet, 
another  cut  downwards  at  him,  and  he  only  avoided 
a  murderous  blow  by  swinging  to  one  side.  One 
bullet  carried  his  cap  from  his  head,  and  one  clipped 
off  a  bit  of  his  ear ;  they  went  zing — zing — past  him, 
but  he  never  moved ;  and  then  the  bluecoats  rushing 
up  to  where  he  had  led,  made  a  final  charge  over  the 
knoll  that  had  been  a  fortress,  and  scattered  or  cap 
tured  the  defeated  defenders. 

And  the  mountaineer,  standing  there  on  the  breast 
works  with  the  colors  yet  hugged  to  his  breast,  list 
ened  to  the  cheers  of  victory,  but  did  not  join  in 
them.  He  was  thinking  strangely  of  that  gray- 
haired  color  bearer  who  had  given  the  flag  into  his 
hands. 

' '  Well,  I  took  it  where  he  told  me  to  go  with  it, 
up  front,"  he  told  himself,  and  looked  around  dog 
gedly  as  he  heard  the  voice  of  his  captain  near  him. 
He  expected  at  least  a  reprimand  for  disobeying 


COMRADES  169 

orders,  and  then  remembering  that  he  had  sworn 
at  the  captain,  in  addition  to  being  insubordinate, 
he  concluded  he  would  be  court-martialed — maybe 
shot. 

For  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  saved  the 
reputation  of  his  regiment ;  that  but  for  his  example 
those  wavering,  raw  companies  holding  back  there 
would  have  communicated  their  panic  to  the  rest, 
and  have  caused  a  stampede  in  the  face  of  the  enemy, 
and  under  the  eyes  of  the  other  Federal  troops,  who 
would  ever  have  held  them  in  disdain  from  that  day. 

But  Zachary  knew  nothing  of  that,  and  only 
looked  mildly  puzzled  when  his  captain  said: 

' '  Dorbett,  you  are  a  credit  to  your  regiment,  and 
I  thank  you  for  helping  to  make  your  regiment  a 
credit  to  you  in  this  engagement.  The  general  wants 
to  speak  to  you." 

Then  he  stepped  aside,  and  the  mountain  boy  per 
ceived  the  simply  uniformed  man  whom  he  had  ad 
mired  from  afar,  but  by  whom  he  had  never  hoped  to 
be  noticed.  And  the  tawny,  keen-eyed  commander 
glanced  over  the  uncouth  figure  holding  the  flag, 
noted  the  useless  hand  dangling  from  the  wounded 
wrist,  the  bared  head  and  the  blood  trickling  down 
along  the  ear  and  neck,  and  Zachary  gazing  at  him 
in  complacent  admiration,  not  understanding  at  all 
what  the  captain  meant  by  speaking  of  the  regi 
mental  credit. 

He  had  even  forgotten  the  iron-clad  requirements 
of  military  discipline,  and  did  not  salute  the  com 
mander  until  reminded  by  the  captain. 


170  COMRADES 

But  the  commander  did  not  seem  to  notice  that, 
or  at  least  did  not  allow  it  to  prejudice  him,  for  his 
eyes  rested  kindly  on  the  raw  recruit. 

"What  is  your  name,  my  boy?"  he  asked,  and 
Zachary  remembered  to  salute  that  time  as  he 
answered: 

' '  Zachary  Taylor  Dorbett,  Private,  Company  E, 
Sixtieth  Ohio." 

"And  to-day  most  notably  a  color  bearer,"  con 
cluded  the  general.  "Well,  Zachary  Dorbett,  I 
saw  you  plant  that  flag  down  there  and  call  your 
regiment  up  to  you ;  I  saw  you  later,  disabled  as  you 
were,  make  a  stand  here  alone  on  the  bank,  in  the 
face  of  terrible  odds — the  first  man  to  mount  it.  For 
the  valor  of  that  act,  and  for  the  example  you  have 
set  your  comrades  to-day,  I  make  you  color  sergeant, 
and  am  glad  to  be  able  to  show  practical  apprecia 
tion  of  courage  like  yours,  my  boy.  You  have  the 
stuff  of  a  brave  soldier  in  you.  See  that  you  never 
fail  the  cause  you  fight  for." 

Zachary  grinned  sheepishly  at  the  words  of  praise, 
having  little  idea  of  what  it  meant  to  most  men  to  be 
promoted  in  one 's  first  engagement  for  valor  on  the 
field  of  battle,  and  promoted,  too,  by  the  general  in 
person . 

"I  don't  reckon  I  know  much  about  being  ser 
geant,  but  I  'm  glad  enough  you  think  I  carried  the 
flag  right.  And  if  I  'd  had  some  rocks  in  my  pockets 
I  could  have  spieled  over  some  of  them  'rebs'  who 
were  hustlen  me  so  close.  But  it's  all  right  any 
way,  and  I  '11  tote  the  flag,  or  be  any  kind  of  a  soldier 
vou  want  to  make  of  me." 


COMRADES  171 

The  general  smiled  as  he  walked  away  with  the 
captain. 

"  If  you  have  many  like  that  one,  you  have  need 
of  a  strict  drill  master,"  he  remarked  to  his  subordi 
nate. 

1 '  He  has  no  more  idea  of  discipline  or  ambition 
than  a  pig,"  answered  the  captain.  'Yet,  when 
aroused,  he  has  the  very  devil  in  him.  Well,  we 
cannot  have  too  much  of  such  raw  material.  From 
it  our  best  soldiers  are  made." 

Thus  ended  the  day  of  Zachary's  first  battle.  And 
when  camp  was  pitched  for  the  night  he  slouched 
around,  in  a  shamefaced  way,  to  the  boys  of  his  mess, 
whom  he  had  carefully  avoided  after  the  engagement. 
He  was  pretty  sure  they  would  make  fun  of  him 
because  he  was  the  one  among  them  to  be  chosen  for 
promotion.  But  when  Tom  Henley  jumped  up  and 
grabbed  his  left  hand  and  squeezed  it  hard,  and  then 
turned  to  the  rest  and  said : 

"Three  cheers  for  Zachary,  boys!"  And  when 
the  boys  swelled  the  chorus  for  him,  and  regarded 
him  with  a  sort  of  puzzled  respect — well,  Zachary 
could  understand  that  better  than  he  could  the 
words  of  the  captain  or  the  general. 

And  before  they  broke  camp,  Clay  Todd  helped 
him  to  write  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Bethia  Ellen  Dorbett, 
of  Fayette  County,  Pennsylvania,  telling  her  of  his 
promotion,  and  of  the  little  clip  taken  off  his  right 
ear.  'Just  like  they  mark  our  pigs  at  home,"  he 
confided  to  his  amanuensis.  But  he  concluded  he 
would  not  tell  his  mother  of  the  arm  that  was  dis- 


172  COMRADES 

abled,  or  of  the  right  hand  that  would  never  be  quite 
strong  again,  as  the  army  surgeon  said. 

Afterwards,  Private  Todd  always  approved  of  him 
self  for  insisting  that  Zachary  should  write  home  at 
once.  Otherwise  none  of  Zach's  comrades  would 
have  known  Mrs.  Dorbett's  address. 

They  were  crossing  the  Potomac  in  the  early  dusk 
of  the  morning.  Hastily  constructed  rafts  had  been 
passing  and  repassing  with  a  brigade  which  had  been 
ordered  eastward,  along  the  Maryland  shore. 

Several  times  men  skirmishing  out  from  the  main 
body  had  been  picked  off  by  sharpshooters  concealed 
in  the  vast  forest,  or  the  thick  underbrush  along  the 
shores  of  the  river. 

And  so  it  chanced  that  Sergeant  Dorbett  was 
singled  out  by  one  of  those  hidden  marksmen,  per 
haps  because  he  was  taller  than  his  comrades.  He 
was  on  the  very  edge  of  their  rude  craft,  and  when 
hit,  fell  straight  back  into  the  water  without  a  cry ; 
but  not  before  his  comrades  had  seen  the  murderous 
wound  in  his  head. 

'  Well,  it  don't  matter  now  to  Zachary  whether 
his  grave  is  in  the  ground  or  the  water,"  remarked 
one  of  the  men. ' '  And  we  could  not  have  helped  him 
anyway,  foi  he  was  dead  before  he  went  under." 

And  when  the  regimental  list  of  the  killed  was  made 
out,  the  name  of  Color  Sergeant  Z.  T.  Dorbett,  Com 
pany  E,  Sixtieth  Ohio,  was  included,  and  Private 
Todd  carried  out  what  he  thought  would  have  been 
the  dead  soldier 's  wish,  and  wrote  the  sad  news  to 
that  mother  up  there  in  the  Pennsylvania  moun 
tains. 


COMRADES  173 

And  the  waves  of  the  vast  armies  swept  on,  carry 
ing  before  them  ever  the  wreckage  of  hearts  and 
homes.  And  the  uncouth  boy  who  had  been  the 
butt  of  the  company  jokes,  and  who  had  carried  the 
colors  that  one  day,  became  only  a  far-away  memory 
in  the  minds  of  his  comrades  whom  the  fortunes 
of  war  were  driving  through  many  battles  across  the 
land. 

In  the  sorry  days  of  reconstruction,  after  that 
final  meeting  at  Appomattox,  various  were  the  ways 
to  which  the  people  along  the  dividing  line  of  the 
States  were  forced  to  resort  for  livelihood.  They 
had  been  so  willing  to  face  starvation  as  long  as 
there  was  the  hope  of  victory  as  an  inspiration.  But 
the  cold,  spiritless  existence  on  the  ruins  of  shattered 
idols!  Ah,  well!  The  starvation  of  the  heart  is 
harder  to  endure,  sometimes,  than  the  starvation  of 
the  body. 

Even  the  freed  blacks,  childishly  dependent  as 
they  were  on  white  guidance,  enjoyed  more  of  privi 
lege  in  some  ways  than  their  former  masters;  for 
they  had  no  fires  to  rekindle  on  the  wrecked  altars  of 
homes  made  sacred  through  generations  of  ancestry. 

And  a  little  way  up  from  the  Potomac,  on  the 
Maryland  side  of  the  river,  one  of  those  colored  men 
—a  refugee  of  war  days — had  found  for  himself  a 
little  cabin  against  the  hill  where  a  spring  bubbled. 

The  freed  colored  people  did  not  usually  lead  an 
enviable  life  in  that  district;  but,  some  way,  old 
Jubal  was  allowed  more  privileges  than  most,  per- 


174  COMRADES 

haps  because  he  was  such  a  cheery,  helpful  fellow, 
besides  being  an  herb  doctor  who  never  levied  fees 
heavier  than  a  little  corn  meal  or  a  few  potatoes,  and 
who  was  always  ready  to  aid  any  one,  without 
question  as  to  color  or  condition. 

"  Fo '  I  was  a  strangah  in  youah  Ian '  an '  yo '  took 
me  in,"  quoted  Jubal  sometimes  to  the  white  neigh 
bors  who  commended  his  wide  charity;  for  Jubal 
was  wonderfully  religious,  and  was  very  fond  of 
repeating  the  texts  of  the  preachers  whom  he  had 
heard  in  his  day. 

Jubal  was  not  alone  on  his  little  estate  wrhere  the 
spring  bubbled  so  cheerily  and  the  high  hills  leaned 
close  as  if  to  shelter  the  small  plateau  where  he 
worked.  There  were  two  rooms  in  his  little  house. 
One  was  a  "lean-to"  where  the  cook-fire  was  and 
the  few  dishes  and  the  hickory  and  tools  with  wrhich 
Jubal  made  chairs  and  baskets  on  wet  days.  Over 
the  more  pretentious  front  room  was  a  loft  reached 
by  a  ladder,  where  he  slept  on  a  "  shake -down" ; 
while  on  the  "sure  enough"  bed  below  stairs  Mr. 
Malcolm  Poindexter  took  his  rest. 

The  people  about  there  were  always  a  little  curious 
about  Mr.  Malcolm  Poindexter,  who  surveyed  callers 
with  quiet  dignity  and  addressed  them  civilly  and 
retired  promptly  to  his  own  room  when  they  sought 
to  penetrate  his  reasons  for  thus  living  year  after 
year  with  never  a  white  companion — no  one  but 
Doctor  Jubal. 

He  seldom  conversed  with  strangers,  and  when 
asked  what  branch  of  the  army  he  had  belonged 


COMRADES  175 

to  (because  he  always  wore  the  blue  of  the  North)  he 
only  replied  that  he  liked  the  color,  and  did  not  wear 
it  because  of  any  particular  reason.  And  after 
awhile  the  people  all  concluded  that  Mr.  Malcolm 
Poindexter  was  "queer"  in  the  head,  and  it  was 
generally  believed  that  he  was  a  branch  of  a  grand 
Carolina  family  whom  Jubal  said  he  had  belonged 
before  those  days  of  carnage. 

But  this  Poindexter  of  the  blue  clothes  and  the  blue 
wondering  eyes  was  not  at  all  grand.  He  would  fry 
the  fish  and  bake  the  corn  cake  against  Jubal's 
home-coming  many  an  evening,  and  he  had  consid 
erable  skill  in  manufacturing  baskets  of  white  oak 
splints — work,  however,  that  he  never  touched  if 
any  but  himself  and  the  herb  doctor  were  there. 

"  Fo '  'tain 't  no  use  argin '  an  old  worn  out  debate 
with  me,  Mr.  Malcolm,  honey,"  old  Jubal  would  say 
with  respectful  authority.  ' '  No  one  called  by  the 
'ristocratic  name  o '  the  Poindexters  evah  did  stir  up 
hoe  cake  an '  sich  like  work,  an '  that 's  just  the  true 
reason  I  give  you  that  fine  quality  name.  I  like 
the  freedom,  an'  I  like  this  fire  of  my  own  an'  this 
roof  of  my  own.  But  there  is  one  special  thing  I 
certainly  did  grieve  after  in  this  land,  an'  that  was 
quality  folks—  the  real,  ole  kind  o'  quality,  thet  was 
so  fine  an'  grand,  an'  walked  like  the  rulers  o'  the 
airth  all  ovah  Callino." 

'  Yes,  you've  told  me  a  heap  about  them,  Jubal," 
said  Mr.  Poindexter,  with  the  pleased  anticipation 
of  a  story  in  his  eyes.  ' They  must  a'  been  mighty 
fine  folks,  an'  had  great  goings  on." 


1 76  COMRADES 

' '  Um !  You  don 't  rec  'lect  nothen  at  all  concernen 
them?" 

"  Nothing  at  all,  Jubal." 

And  then  the  odd  pair  sat  in  silence  and  thought 
for  a  little  while — a  season  of  thought  likely  to  be 
repeated  to-morrow,  and  all  the  to-morrows,  for  it 
was  a  question  asked  by  Jubal  daily,  and  the  answer 
was  always  the  same,  and  had  been  the  same  for  six 
years. 

"An'  so,"  continued  Jubal,  "I  don't  noways 
allow  these  poo '  white  trash  'round  here — folks  that 
never  did  live  'mongst  quality — I  don't  noways 
allow  to  let  them  see  you  beaten  up  the  batter  an' 
sich  like.  You  got  the  fine  name  o '  the  Poindexters, 
an'  you  is  moral  bound  to  keep  up  the  dignity  o* 
that  name.  Huh!  How  you  allow  to  do  it  with  the 
batter  crock,  honey?  " 

"But,  maybe,  Jubal,  the  batter  crock  fits  me 
better  than  the  fine  name,"  and  the  tall,  blue  eyed 
fellow  stared  gloomily  into  the  fire  where  their  supper 
cooked. 

"Now,  don't  you  get  to  think  like  that,  child — 
you  hear  me!"  said  the  old  man  hastily.  "Fo* 
you  well  know  that  when  you  get  cloudy  thoughts 
in  youah  haid,  it 's  bound  to  pain  you  shameful  spite 
o'  my  docteren.  Why  shouldn't  that  name  fit  you 
good?  Don't  you  mind  well  how  I  said,  first  time 
I  sot  eyes  on  you,  that  you  certainly  must  be  cousin 
to  the  Poindexters  ?  Jest  the  same  tall,  easy  sort  o ' 
man  as  they,  an '  with  eyes  as  blue  as  that  other  Mr. 
Malcolm,  who  was  so  petted  on  me,  an'  who  died 


COMRADES  177 

jest  afore  the  war  come  along;  an'  jest  that  same 
low  voice,  easy  way  o'  talken  that  they  had;  jest 
the  real  quality  way;  no  sah,  don't  you  never  talk 
to  me  about  batter  crocks.  Somewheres  we'll  hear 
tell  o '  your  family,  one  o '  these  days ;  an '  when  we 
do  it's  sure  to  be  among  quality  folks.  Now  you 
mind  the  words  o'  Jubal!  " 

"But  it  won't  be  among  the  Poindexters,"  said 
the  other  man  with  a  smile.  He  always  pretended 
to  treat  the  prophecies  of  Jubal  as  a  jest. 

' '  Why  not,  now  ?     It 's  jest  as  likely  "— 

' '  But  not  very  likely  they  would  be  wearing  this 
color  o'  clothes,"  and  the  white  man  glanced  down 
at  the  army  blue  of  his  garments. 

' '  No,  n — no,"  assented  Jubal.  ' '  The  quality  folks 
of  ole  Callino  did  sure  despise  them  blue  colored 
uniforms.  That's  the  onliest  way  I  can't  reconcile 
you  an'  my  Mr.  Malcolm,  'cause  he  never  would  a' 
worn  them,  an'  you  kind  o'  feel  lost  in  any  other 
color — that's  curious,  honey,  it's  certain  curious. 
But  it 's  kind  o '  lucky,  too,  seein '  as  I  picked  up  such 
a  powerful  lot  o '  soldier  clothes  when  followen  along 
the  trail  of  Morgan 's  raid  into  the  Ohio  State.  I  tell 
you  it  was  amazen  the  lot  o '  plunder  his  men  gathered 
up  that  they  couldn't  carry.  I  picked  up  all  the 
uniforms  I  could  stagger  under.  I  was  too  old  for 
the  fight  or  the  march,  but  was  still  able  to  look  after 
one  sick  soldier  when  I  found  him — one  who  had 
nigh  about  give  his  life  for  my  freedom — that 's  jest 
the  way  the  notion  looked  to  me,  Mr.  Malcolm.  An ' 
it  do  look  like  as  if  the  Lord  had  sent  us  blessings 

12 


178  COMRADES 

evah  since,  for  our  baskets  certainly  do  bring  a  leetle 
higher  price  than  many  I  see.  An '  that  sort  o '  work 
an'  the  ginsang  hunts  do  agree  with  you  wonderful." 

"Yes,"  assented  the  man,  who  was  generally  a 
listener  at  their  fireside-  -Jubal  was  the  conversa 
tionalist.  "Yes;  but  do  you  know,  Uncle  Jubal, 
we  haven't  been  in  the  woods  to  live  for  a  long 
time?  " 

"Well,  there  now!"  And  Jubal 's  wrinkled 
black  hands  clapped  his  knees  in  delight.  ' '  I  was 
thinken  o'  that  very  thing  myself  to-day,  an'  won 
dered  if  you'd  mind  it — an'  you  did!  You  did  all 
by  yourself!  Oh,  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Malcolm,  that 
trouble  in  youah  haid's  menden  mightily — it  cer 
tainly  is.  I'll  be  expecten  to  have  you  wake  up 
some  o '  these  mawnings  an '  tell  rne  all  about  where 
you  was  brought  up,  an'  how  you  got  that  skull 
wound  that's  hurt  your  memory  so  much,  an'  all 
sich." 

The  kindly  colored  face  was  beaming  with  antici 
pation  ;  and  all  the  while  he  was  watching,  stealthily, 
the  face  of  the  other  man  to  learn  if  his  enthusiasm 
was  at  all  contagious,  or  if  any  gleam  of  memory 
shone  in  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Poindexter.  He  ever  hovered 
around  the  bearer  of  that  honored  name,  like  a  nurse 
guiding  the  instincts  of  a  child,  and  sometimes  the 
means  resorted  to  by  the  darkey  guardian  to  arouse 
the  interest  of  his  protege  were  grotesque  in  the 
extreme.  But  to  Jubal  they  were  all-absorbing,  and 
had  been,  ever  since  the  day  when  he  found  the 
wounded  soldier. 


COMRADES  179 

Just  after  the  battle  of  Piedmont,  the  armies  had 
passed  on,  leaving  this  disabled  one ;  and  Jubal  had 
found  him  stretched,  wet  and  unconscious,  at  the 
river's  edge,  and  so  near  death's  door  that  it  took 
all  the  science  of  herb  cures  to  get  him  on  his  feet 
again.  But  the  science  of  herbs  could  not  bring 
back  the  memory  driven  out  by  the  murderous  lead. 
Still,  old  Jubal  did  what  he  could,  and  felt  a  comfort 
in  thus  working  for  the  Union.  And  then  his  fond 
ness  for  his  patient  grew  strong  through  the  utter 
dependence  on  him  of  the  tall,  young  ' '  blueccat  "  — 
a  dependence  instinctive  and  not  reasoning — the 
dependence  of  a  little  child  who  must  be  taught  all 
things. 

And  then  Jubal  named  him,  and  took  to  himself  a 
protege  as  master,  being  not  without  pride  at  the 
effect  his  Mr.  Poindexter  produced  on  the  few  people 
who  ever  saw  him.  The  silence  of  Mr.  Poindexter 
appeared  like  dignity  and  superiority  to  the  people 
of  the  sparsely-settled  neighborhood  where  Jubal  did 
his  doctoring  and  tinkering  and  manufacturing. 
And  never  under  any  circumstances  was  the  master 
allowed  to  assist  at  the  chair  or  basket  making  if 
any  alien  eyes  were;  about. 

Mr.  Poindexter  must — in  the  eyes  of  society — live 
like  a  gentleman,  and  Jubal  could  not  imagine  a  gen 
tleman  doing  anything  so  low-down  as  manual  labor. 

And  while  Mr.  Poindexter  really  preferred  the 
labor,  when  no  one  was  looking,  he  became  little  by 
little  imbued  with  Jubal 's  own  ideas  as  to  position 
and  caste,  and  more  than  half  believed  the  old 


i8o  COMRADES 

fellow 's  prophesies  as  to  a  probable  grand  past  and 
a  mystical,  fairy -like  future  that  would  one  day  come 
to  him. 

"When  you  finds  youah  own  again,  honey— hi!  I 
tell  you  of  one  black  man  who  will  dance  the  pigeon- 
wing  that  day,"  he  was  in  the  habit  of  saying;  and 
Mr.  Poindexter  would  smile  in  his  quiet  way  and  nod, 
and  over  their  evening  fires  they  would  build  fine 
castles  out  of  their  imaginations  — a  pastime  Jubal 
delighted  in. 

To  those  two  living  in  their  log  cabin,  away  back 
in  the  river  hills  of  Maryland,  no  newspapers  ever 
came ;  and  neither  could  have  read  them  if  they  had 
come.  Their  nearest  neighbors  were  over  a  mile 
away — a  family  whose  only  occupation  was  the 
making  of  shingles  to  ship  down  the  river  on  rafts, 
in  the  springtime,  and  whose  knowledge  of  the  great 
outside  world  was  as  limited  as  that  of  children. 

The  way  in  which  the  master  directed  the  affairs 
of  their  little  home  would  not  have  been  very  plain 
to  an  outsider,  for  Jubal  would  generally  say :  ' '  Mr. 
Malcolm,  don't  you  reckon  I'd  bettah  work  in  the 
garden  patch  this  mawning?  They's  sure  to  be  a 
shower  afore  night." 

And  Mr.  Malcolm  would  invariably  reply :  ' '  Yes, 
Jubal." 

Or  sometimes  it  was  a  trip  to  the  settlement  where 
the  baskets  were  sold,  or  a  journey  into  far  timber 
lands  for  certain  medicinal  roots;  but  wherever  or 
whatever  the  action,  the  old  darkey  would  say: 
' '  Don 't  you  think  we  'd  bettah,  Mr.  Malcolm  ?"  And 


COMRADES  181 

the  answer  was  always  the  same — "Yes,  Jubal." 

And  thus  did  Mr.  Poindexter  rule;  his  ideas 
always  being  but  a  shadow  of  the  thoughts  of  Jubal. 

But  one  morning,  when  the  robin  was  building  its 
nest  in  the  tall  wild  cherry  by  the  door,  Mr.  Poin 
dexter  sat  in  the  early  sunshine  with  his  head  on  his 
hand,  until  Jubal,  drawing  near  and  noting  some 
thing  unusual  in  his  face,  asked  :  '  You  sick,  Mr. 
Malcolm?" 

"No,  Jubal." 

' '  That  hole  in  youah  haid  ain  't  given  you  trouble 
again?  " 

"No,  Jubal." 

But  Jubal  worked  in  the  little  garden  patch  and 
kept  one  eye  free  to  note  any  further  symptoms  of 
illness,  mental  or  physical,  in  his  master,  who  all  the 
morning  was  unusually  quiet,  and  seemed  actually 
to  be  thinking. 

At  last,  however,  when  the  old  darkey  came  near 
to  rest  a  bit  in  the  shade  of  the  wild  cherry,  Mr. 
Poindexter  said: 

"Jubal,  you've  told  me  a  heap  about  dreams, 
just  what  they  are  like  and  all.  Well,  I  never  could 
understand  what  you  meant  before,  but  I  reckon  I 
do  now,  for  I  surely  did  have  something  like  a  dream 
last  night." 

"Glory!      Now!     It's  one  step  more — one  step 

nearer,"  cried  Jubal,  hugging  himself  in  his  delight. 

'  Now,  honey,  I  see  plain  why  you  been  thinken  so 

solemn   like  all  the  day.      Now,  Mr.  Malcolm,  le's 

heah  youah  dream,  true  as  you  can  mind  it." 


1 82  COMRADES 

"Well,  Jubal,  I'm  only  maken  a  guess  that  it 
was  a  dream,"  said  Mr.  Poindexter  carefully.  "I 
never  had  anything  like  it  before  and  it  worries  me 
someway.  It  started  off  with  that  toothache  root 
you  allowed  yesterday  you  must  go  and  hunt." 

"Toothache  root?  Oh,  yes,  I  mind  about  that," 
nodded  Jubal.  "I  was  kind  o'  discouraged  'cause 
it's  getting  so  powerful  scarce.  Yes,  I  mind." 

"It  was  the  scarceness  I  dreamed  of  first,"  said 
Mr.  Poindexter.  : '  We  was  maken  search  along  the 
banks  of  a  little  branch,  and  we  found  leaves  that 
looked  like  it — leaves  like  little  strawberry  runners, 
but  when  we  dug  down  for  the  root  they  didn  't  have 
the  little  white  jointed  root  o '  the  toothache  cure." 

"Humph! — that's  easy  to  dream,"  murmured 
Jubal.  "Now  I  was  in  hopes  you'd  dreamed 
where  we  could  find  the  true  kind." 

"That's  just  what  I  did,  too,"  affirmed  the 
dreamer.  "But  I've  been  tryen,  tryen  hard,  all 
this  day  since  I  woke  up,  to  bring  in  my  mind  just 
where  we  got  on  the  path  that  took  us  there.  It 
was  a  long,  long  way.  We  crossed  over  a  river,  and 
up  into  mountains  where  the  big  laurel  was  thick  all 
along  the  high  streams.  We  went  along  one  place 
where  the  rocks  were  bigger  than  houses,  and  away 
in  between  them  we  found  ice  and  snow  piles, though 
all  around  that  place  the  little  laurel  was  full  of 
flowers." 

"That's  to  the  north,"  said  Jubal,  complacently, 
"now  go  on,  honey.  What  else  growed  there?  " 

"The    trees  you  call  water  birch  was  all  along 


COMRADES  183 

where  the  rocks  were,  and  some  pines,  and—  oh,  yes 
» 

He  stopped  and  stared  at  Jubal  as  if  for  a  solu 
tion  of  some  thought  that  swept  to  him  suddenly. 

"Well,  Mr.  Malcolm -well,  what  is  it?"  asked 
Jubal,  nervously;  for  after  a  lethargy  of  five  years 
Mr.  Poindexter  was  aroused  to  something  of  inde 
pendent  thought  and  imagination. 

He  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  looked  up  into  the 
wild  cherry  tree  where  the  mated  robins  were  chat 
tering  busily  over  their  new  nest.  Then  he  said: 
' '  Birds  like  that  were  there,  and  I  was  talken  to 
them  in  my  dream,  and  they  would  answer  me." 

' '  Law,  Mr.  Malcolm,  how  would  wild  robins  in 
the  woods  know  how  to  talk  youah  talk?  " 

' '  They  didn  't ;  I  talked  their  talk,  just  like  you 
whistle  when  you  call  to  me  from  away  off." 

Just  then  the  robin  above  him  chirruped  as  it 
fluttered  about,  and  looking  up  at  it  he  puckered  up 
his  lips,  hesitated  and  looked  at  Jubal  in  a  shame 
faced,  apologetic  fashion,  and  then  tried  to  answer 
its  call. 

The  first  attempt  was  a  little  clumsy,  and  the  bird 
turned  its  head  on  one  side  and  surveyed  him  in 
derisive  silence ;  but  when  he  called  again  in  a  lower, 
softer  strain,  she  fluttered  to  a  twig  lower  down,  and 
sent  out  again  her  wooing  song. 

'  That  is  just  what  the  bird  in  my  dream  whis 
tled,"  said  Mr.  Poindexter.  "Only  there  were 
other  birds,  too." 

"Try   and  whistle  some  more,  like  other  kind  o' 


1 84  COMRADES 

birds,  too,"  cried  the  delighted  Jubal.  ' '  I  tell  you, 
Mr.  Malcolm,  there's  a  heap  in  dreams  sometimes, 
and  you  ain't  maken  them  bird  calls  for  the  first 
time  in  youah  life — no,  sir.  Why,  I  couldn't  whistle 
like  that  if  I  tried  a  year — I  couldn  't.  Now,  honey, 
that  dream  done  mark  a  path  for  us  to  walk  in,  it 
certainly  did ;  and  we  '11  start  on  it  afore  long,  if  the 
Lord's  willen.  But  you  keep  up  a  whistlen,  Mr. 
Malcolm." 

And  Mr.  Malcolm  did  so,  and,  as  much  to  his  own 
amazement  as  to  that  of  Jubal 's,  he  found  that  the 
birds  themselves  were  often  decoyed  by  his  calls. 

For  many  days  Jubal  watched  Mr.  Poindexter 
closely  through  breakfast,  and  then,  observing  noth 
ing  unusual  in  his  appearance,  he  would  ask :  ' '  No 
dream  come  last  night,  honey?  " 

"No,  Jubal." 

But  Jubal  asked  early  and  often  of  Mr.  Poin 
dexter 's  one  dream,  and  of  the  exact  ledge  of 
rocks  where  the  laurel  and  the  water  birch  grew, 
and  of  the  sort  of  little  ravine  in  which  the  desired 
toothache  root  buried  itself.  And  the  result  of 
Jubal 's  thinking  over  the  affair  came  to  a  climax 
when  one  morning  he  said : 

"Mr.  Malcolm,  I've  been  thinken  we  sartinly 
ought  to  try  and  hunt  some  o '  that  toothache  root. 
Seems  to  me  most  everybody  I  try  to  sell  herbs  to 
asks  first  thing  for  toothache  cure.  Now,  we  ain't 
been  on  a  real  tramp  nowheres  since  way  last  fall 
and  I  sort  o'  crave  a  change.  Don't  you  think  we 
might  jest  shut  up  the  house  for  a  few  weeks,  and 


COMRADES  185 

take  the  way  up  across  that  river,  and  into  the  north 
country  where  that  toothache  root  grows?  " 

"Yes,  Jubal." 

And  thus  it  occurred  that  Mr.  Poindexter  and 
Jubal  set  forth,  much  as  two  children  would  wander 
into  a  wilderness  for  a  picnic.  With  well  filled 
haversacks,  they  marched  like  kings  along  the 
shadowed  by-paths,  where  the  birds  called  to  them 
as  they  went.  Where  the  widely  divided  farms 
were  reached  they  were  always  almost  sure  of  a  mug 
of  milk,  though  often  accompanied  by  kindly  meant 
questions  sadly  confusing  to  the  white  man.  What 
regiment  was  he  in?  Where  did  he  get  the  wound 
in  his  head?  And  why  was  his  right  hand  and  arm 
shriveled  away  until  it  was  so  much  smaller  than 
his  left? 

And  Mr.  Poindexter  could  only  roll  up  his  sleeve 
and  show  where  a  bullet  had  evidently  entered,  and 
another  place  where  it  had  been  cut  out  again,  and 
then  he  would  generally  walk  away,  and  Jubal  be 
left  to  explain,  as  best  he  could,  that  his  master's 
head  had  been  injured  so  much  that  it  was  bad  for 
him  to  think  of  or  discuss  his  wounds;  and  then  he 
would  always  manage  to  ask  carelessly  if  any  neigh 
bors  about  there  had  been  in  the  big  fight  down  by 
the  Potomac  River — the  one  that  folks  called  the 
battle  of  Piedmont. 

But  no  replies  seemed  to  satisfy  him,  and  then 
they  would  tramp  on  —  the  white  man  and  the 
black,  each  clad  for  this  quest  of  theirs  in  the  blue 
uniform  of  the  North. 


1 86  COMRADES 

And  as  ever  when  they  chanced  to  pass  any  fine 
estate,  Jubal  would  say: — "Maybe  now,  Mr.  Mal 
colm,  some  of  youah  kinsfolks  live  there."  Or  if  a 
finely  equipped  carriage  went  by  them  on  the  road, 
they  would  look  at  each  other  in  silent  understand 
ing  that  some  day  they  would  ride  just  so;  and 
Jubal  was  to  drive  the  horses.  For  one  of  the  in 
born  ideas  of  Jubal 's  soul  was  that  gentlemen  always 
did  keep  horses  and  carriages. 

Then  they  reached  a  great  wide  road  called  ' '  the 
national" — the  finest  road  they  had  ever  seen,  as  it 
wound  around  mountains,  and  dropped  by  easy 
gradations  into  the  valleys.  Jubal  asked  where  the 
north  end  of  it  led  to,  and  was  told  by  a  farmer  of  its 
wide  reaching  length  across  the  States,  and  that  after 
passing  through  the  great  meadow  country  it  wound 
the  last  mountain,  that  mountain  called  ' '  the 
Laurel  range." 

"Laurel  range! — Laurel!"  repeated  Jubal  in 
some  excitement.  ' '  Big  laurel  grow  there?  " 

' '  About  as  big  as  you  're  likely  to  find,"  remarked 
the  stranger,  ' '  and  lots  of  wild  land  along  it.  But 
the  meadow  country  on  this  side,  and  the  settlements 
on  the  other  side,  are  all  pretty  clear.  You  '11  reach 
the  laurel  hills  in  a  couple  of  days '  easy  walken,  and 
I  guess  your  boss  ain  't  a  fast  traveler,  is  he?  " 

"No,  sir — no,  he  ain't.  A  bullet  scraped  the 
inside  of  his  skull  too  close  to  leave  him  the  same 
strong  gentleman  he  has  been.  But  we  do  hope  this 
here  walk  will  do  good  to  his  health;  so  we're  a 
taken  it  easy." 


COMRADES  187 

' '  Both  of  you  soldiers?  "  asked  the  farmer,  gath 
ering  up  his  reins,  preparatory  to  starting  along  the 
road  they  had  come.  ' '  I  see  you  both  wear  the 
uniform." 

' '  Ye — yes,  sir,  we  does ;  but  only  my  boss,  es  you 
call  him,  sir,  did  really  fight  in  the  war.  I  was 
so  old  they  wouldn't  take  me.  But  I  wear  the  blue 
clothes  for  dress  up,  an '  I  've  been  in  service  for  the 
cause.  Yes,  sir;  though  I  never  did  carry  a  gun, 
I've  done  the  best  service  I  could  for  the  cause." 
And  then  he  pushed  ahead  beside  Mr.  Poindexter, 
and  all  along  the  ' '  great  meadow  "  country  he  never 
diverged  in  the  slightest  from  the  direct  road,  though 
they  passed  many  a  wooded  ravine  where  the  tooth 
ache  cure  might  have  grown.  And  the  watchful 
black  eyes  noted  with  pleasure  that  they  were  enter 
ing  the  neighborhood  of  plenty  and  evident  pros 
perity.  Droves  of  fine  cattle  pastured  in  the  rich 
meadow  lands;  herds  of  colts  cantered  up  to  the 
road  sometimes,  and  then  dashed  free  as  birds  over 
the  great  stretches  of  fields.  The  log  cabins  gave 
way  to  fine  stone  mansions,  with  cool  shadowy 
porches  running  along  them ;  and  at  each  one  of 
those  pretentious  dwellings  Jubal  was  sure  to  stop 
on  one  pretext  or  another  and  always  managed  to 
learn,  before  leaving,  if  the  inhabitants  had  any 
kinsfolks  in  the  war  and  if  they  came  through  all 
right. 

But  when  they  reached  the  last  range,  and  had 
left  the  fine  plantations  behind,  and  were  once  more 
in  the  region  of  wild  lands  and  cabins — then  at  last, 


1 88  COMRADES 

Jubal  grew  discouraged.  He  had  nursed  the  un 
realized  hope  that  somewhere  on  that  fine  big  road 
to  the  laurel  hills  somebody  in  the  great  plantations 
would  recognize  Mr.  Poindexter. 

He  had,  however,  very  carefully  refrained  from 
mentioning  to  Mr.  Poindexter  that  their  walk  had 
any  special  significance,  beyond  the  search  for  herbs. 
They  were  each  imbued  with  the  idea  that  "some 
day  "  they  would  by  chance  walk  up  to  some  grand 
portal  and  be  received  with  affection,  and  have  a 
big  dinner  because  the  "master  "  had  come  back 
alive.  This  fantasy  was  Jubal's  invention  at  the 
beginning,  but  Mr.  Poindexter  was  calmly  waiting 
the  event,  too. 

And  when  they  halted  there  to  rest  at  the  foot  of 
the  mountain,  where  a  cold  stream  came  tumbling 
out  of  the  shadows,  Jubal  was  sorely  discouraged, 
and  was  wondering  if  another  road  could  not  be 
found  on  their  return.  And  perhaps,  on  the  other 
road— 

But  he  built  a  fire,  with  the  aid  of  a  tinder-box 
and  dry  bark,  and  roasted  a  fine  rabbit  that  Mr. 
Poindexter  had  killed  with  a  stone,  on  which, 
together  with  some  good  wheat  bread  earned  by 
Jubal  for  some  trifling  medicinal  service,  they  made 
a  very  good  meal.  Afterwards,  as  they  were  resting 
in  digestive  laziness,  a  native  of  the  country  jogged 
down  a  dim  pathway,  and  spoke  as  he  passed. 

"Took  you  for  gypsies  first  sight  I  got  of  your 
fire,"  he  remarked  drawlingly.  "I  notice  by  your 
clothes  you  've  been  in  the  sarvice ;  whar  might  you 
hail  from?" 


COMRADES  189 

' '  From  down  Maryland  way,  sir,  and  we  're  maken 
search  for  some  special  herbs  for  medicines,"  ans 
wered  Jubal,  while  Mr.  Poindexter  nodded  his  head 
gravely. 

' '  Well,  there 's  most  all  kinds  as  grows  in  the 
mountains  to  be  found  on  one  side  o '  this  hill  or  the 
other.  But  say,  men,  that  creek  water  is  pretty 
thin  drinking;  won't  you  just  doctor  it  a  little?  " 

And  he  swung  a  gallon  jug  from  out  a  bag  he  was 
carrying;  in  the  other  end  was  some  buckwheat,  of 
which  a  few  grains  were  slipping  through  a  small 
hole. 

"Whiskey? — no,  I  don't  drink  whiskey,"  said 
Mr.  Poindexter  with  a  kindly  smile.  ' '  But  Jubal !  " 

"Yes,  sir;  thank  you,  sir.  Jubal  certainly  is  get- 
ing  old  enough  to  feel  the  need  of  it  sometimes,  and 
I  drink  to  youah  very  good  health,  sir.  Now  I  tell 
you  that  surely  does  touch  the  right  spot  after  a  long 
tramp,  though  the  water  tasted  good,  too,  when 
there  was  no  better  in  sight.  It's  mighty  cold 
water." 

"And  might  well  be,"  added  the  mountaineer, 
after  a  long  swig  at  the  jug.  ' '  Most  o '  the  water  is 
cold  this  side  the  mountain ;  some  of  it  comes  from 
springs  in  the  ledges  where  ice  is  found  till  June. 
Yes,  sirree;  ice  an'  snow  packed  into  the  crevices 
till  it  settles  into  solid  blocks,  and  there  it  stays 
through  the  spring." 

"Does — does  folks  live  near-a-bouts  to  it?" 
asked  Jubal.  But  the  man  shook  his  head. 

"No   one   nearer   than   a   mile,"    he   answered. 


1 90  COMRADES 

"There   is  a  family  about  that  near  to  it— an  old 
woman  and  her  gal;  their  name's  Dorbett." 

' '  Might  I  ask  you,  sir,  if  there  'd  be  water  birch 
trees  close  to  where  that  ice  and  snow  is— water  birch 
and  laurels?  "  asked  Jubal--for  surely,  surely  this 
was  the  land  of  the  dream. 

"Certain,  more  water  birch  and  big  laurel  than 
anything  else  right  along  the  ledges,"  said  the 
stranger. 

' '  Could  we  reach  it  to-day  from  here — is  it  hard 
to  find?  "  and  the  mountaineer  looked  at  him  curi 
ously,  his  eagerness  was  so  plain. 

"Well,  if  you  want  medicine  herbs  from  along 
Snake-den  ledge,  you'd  better  get  a  guide,  as  you're 
a  stranger,"  he  remarked.  "Not  that  it's  so  far, 
but  that  there 's  no  way  I  could  direct  you  from  here. 
There  is  an  old  trail  as  used  to  lead  past  it;  a  trail 
they  used  to  haul  out  mill-stones  on,  long  ago,  but 
no  stranger  could  follow  it.  But  I  tell  you ;  you  just 
keep  on  this  path  for  about  two  miles  back,  and  it  '11 
bring  you  where  the  widow  woman  lives  that  I  spoke 
of,  an'  they'll  likely  show  you  the  place.  You  can 
find  the  house,  all  right.  Just  keep  on  the  plainest 
road  all  the  way.  There's  a  path  through  part  of 
the  ledge  that  would  be  a  short  cut,  but  it 's  risky  to 
start  you  on  that." 

Mr.  Poindexter  had  walked  away  along  the  stream 
and  was  whistling  to  an  oriole  fluttering  just  above 
him.  The  chatter  of  the  birds  had  given  him  a  quiet 
delight  ever  since  the  morning  of  that  dream,  and 
he  never  heard  a  new  song  that  he  did  not  at  once 
try  to  imitate  it. 


COMRADES  191 

He  nodded  when  the  stranger  called  good -day  to 
him,  and  went  obediently  along  with  Jubal,  who 
hastily  gathered  up  their  few  traps  and  started  up 
the  shadowy  path,  up  and  up  gradually,  with  ever 
the  music  of  the  mountain  stream  falling  over  the 
stones  and  the  white  sand  a  little  below  them. 

There  were  so  many  birds.  Everywhere  they  were 
calling,  and  Mr.  Poindexter  walked  as  briskly  as  a 
boy,  and  once,  to  the  surprise  of  Jubal,  he  laughed 
aloud  as  one  flame-colored  songster  was  decoyed 
almost  to  his  hand. 

' '  I  never  did  see  so  many  pretty  wild  birds,"  said 
Jubal.  But  the  other  smiled  and  said,  "I  did, 
Jubal — in  my  dream." 

They  had  passed  several  log  trails  leading  to  right 
or  left,  and  cattle  paths  that  wound  and  were  lost 
again  in  the  dense  brush ;  but  when  they  had  gone 
about  a  mile  Mr.  Poindexter,  who  was  a  few  steps 
ahead,  turned  to  the  right,  where  an  ancient  tree 
was  marked  by  a  ' '  blaze,"  and  where  the  dim  signs 
of  an  old  trail  led. 

"Hi!  Where  you  marching?  That  ain't  the 
road  the  man  told  us." 

The  other  stopped  and  looked  around  in  a  puzzled 
way. 

' '  I  don 't  know  what  the  man  said,  but  I  think  this 
is  the  way  to  go,"  he  responded,  hesitatingly.  It 
was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  offered  an  opinion 
opposite  to  that  of  Jubal,  and  Jubal  just  sat  down  on 
a  log  and  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 

' '  Now  tell  me,   Mr.  Malcolm,  honey,  how  is  it  you 


102  COMRADES 

think  that  skimpy  little  path  is  the  way  instead  o' 
this  here  plain  one?  " 

But  Mr.  Poindexter  put  his  hands  to  his  head,  and 
wrinkled  his  brows  as  though  in  pain. 

"I  can't  tell  why,"  he  said  despairingly,  "only 
I  do  think  this  is  the  way  to  go." 

And  faithful  Jubal  made  no  further  protest.  Some 
thing  in  the  air  of  the  Laurel  hills  had  changed  Mr. 
Malcolm.  He  was  at  last  something  of  the  real 
leader,  instead  of  a  make-believe. 

The  place  through  which  the  trail  led  was  a  dense 
thicket  of  laurel;  then  the  larger  trees  commenced, 
chestnut  and  white  oak  and  rock-oak;  and  they 
walked  over  stones  worn  into  ruts  by  wheels  long 
ago.  It  was  only  by  looking  very  closely  that  Jubal 
could  detect  those  signs  of  ancient  usage,  for  ferns 
grew  to  their  waists  along  where  moisture  oozed  from 
crevices  in  the  natural  stone  paving.  But  Mr.  Poin 
dexter  never  seemed  to  look  for  signs  of  the  trail. 
He  was  looking  upwards  where  the  birds  flew  here 
and  there,  and  his  feet  were  finding  the  way  for 
themselves. 

Then  a  wall  grew  gradually  higher  on  one  side  of 
the  trail — a  wall  of  huge  stone,  above  which  the 
laurel  grew  and  bent  over  towards  them  with  long 
antlers,  and  the  wall  grew  more  and  more  massive, 
higher  than  tall  houses  it  towered — sheer  planes 
feathered  green  with  rock-fern,  and  here  and  there 
great  breaks  where  cavities  had  been  quarried  in 
some  tremendous  upheaval  of  nature ;  and  all  along 
the  granite  wall  stood  water  birches  ranged  like 


COMRADES  193 

sentinels  around  a  fort,  their  slitn  gray  bodies  tower 
ing  high  up  above  the  dark  green  shadows  of  the 
laurel. 

Mr.  Poindexter  fairly  ran  from  one  crevice  to 
another,  leaping  upwards  sometimes,  where  a  foot 
rest  was  to  be  found ,  and  peering  down  into  the 
darkness  of  the  great  rifts.  Once  he  slid  down  again 
to  Jubal  and  carried  a  branch  of  the  little  laurel 
blossoms. 

"You  see  it  is  just  like  the  dream,  Jubal;  the 
rocks  and  the  water  birch  and  the  laurel,  and  the  ice 
is  here  somewhere  I  reckon.  Put  your  hand  to  that 
slit  in  the  rock;  don't  the  air  come  through  it  cold 
as  ice  ?  You  see  it  was  a  true  dream." 

A  true  dream !  Jubal  was  dazed  by  its  truth.  He 
felt  frightened  when  he  looked  at  the  eager  face  of 
the  man  who  leaped  like  a  squirrel  up  and  down  over 
those  wild,  dangerous  crevices.  Mr.  Poindexter, 
laughing  aloud,  and  calling  to  the  birds,  was  a  differ 
ent  being  from  the  one  he  had  served  so  long,  and 
Jubal  feared  the  excitement  was  simply  madness; 
for  the  old  man  had  always  a  secret  dread  that  the 
old  wound  in  the  skull  might  bring  about  that  result. 

Then  far  in  a  cave-like  aperture  he  heard  a  shout, 
and  directly  he  saw  the  man  running  towards  him 
with  both  hands  held  out. 

"It's  true,"  he  called,  "all  true.  Here  is  the 
ice  and  snow — how  cold  it  is!  Wagon  loads  are  in 
there.  It  falls  down  from  above,  away  back  in  there. 
Oh,  it  is  nice  to  dream!"  Then  he  paused  and 
raised  his  wet,  icy  hand  to  his  head  in  the  way  Jubal 

13 


194  COMRADES 

was  so  used  to  seeing  him  do.  A  gesture  of  pain, 
and  the  pain  always  followed  any  attempt  at  earnest 
thinking. 

' '  I  wish,  Jubal,"  he  said  at  last, ' '  that  you  would 
tell  me  if  this  is  a  dream  now,  or  is  this  real  and 
true?" 

' '  Surely  it 's  real  an '  true,"  decided  Jubal.  ' '  Don 't 
you  mind,  Mr.  Malcolm,  honey,  that  we  jest 
come  over  here  to  make  search  for  toothache  root?  " 

"Toothache  root?  Oh,  yes."  And  he  gave  a 
sigh  of  content,  as  though  some  perplexed  thought 
was  driven  away  by  the  mention  of  their  prosaic 
errand.  "It's  here  somewheres,  ain't  it?  But 
ain't  it  too  cold  jest  here  by  the  rocks  for  it?  Now, 
over  that  little  hollow,  the  sun  shines  on  that  bank." 

And  again  Jubal  followed  him,  and  found  him, 
sure  enough,  digging  the  rare  magical  little  plant, 
and  holding  up  the  white  cane- jointed  roots  in 
triumph. 

Jubal  took  the  herbs  with  trembling  fingers.  He 
was  old  and  tired,  and  all  his  hopes  ending  in  this 
wild,  rock-bound  ravine,  left  him  feeling  weak  and 
discouraged. 

"Don't  dig  any  more  just  now,  Mr.  Malcolm," 
he  said,  touching  the  other's  arm  with  his  hand. 
' '  We  '11  come  another  day,  maybe,  an '  get  the  rest, 
for  I  certainly  am  nigh  shakin'  with  a  chill  in  this 
damp  place.  Don't  you  reckon  we  can  find  a  path 
to  get  out  into  the  clear  woods  right  away?" 

"Why,  yes,"  and  Mr.  Malcolm  picked  up  Jubal 's 
bundle  with  his  strong  left  hand  and  started  ahead 


COMRADES  195 

without  further  ceremony.  But  after  going  a  few 
rods  he  stopped  in  perplexity.  "Jubal,  we  never 
hunted  here  before  did  we?  "  And  his  troubled 
eyes  looked  earnestly  at  the  old  man. 

' '  No,   honey,  we  never  did,  to  my  knowen." 

"  'Cause,  it  seems  to  me  I've  walked  down  here 
other  times  than  this  and  it  seems  to  me  I  can  most 
tell  what  is  down  where  this  path  goes." 

' '  But  there  ain't  a  path,"  said  Jubal.  And  then 
the  other  man  stooped  and  parted  the  thick  mass  of 
ferns  and  showed  that  between  the  clumps  was  worn 
a  narrow  place  reaching  along  both  ways,  and  in  a 
moist  spot  was  left  the  impress  of  pig  tracks. 

"And  it  goes  on  down  over  the  hill  like  that," 
said  the  discoverer  with  his  eyes  half  closed,  ' '  and 
down  there  is  a  big  creek  and  a  pile  of  gray  and  black 
stuff  they  dug  out  of  the  coal  from  the  old  bank,  an ' 
then — but  I  can 't  tell  any  further  now.  Come,  let 's 
see  if  it's  true." 

It  was  true.  The  stream  tumbled  and  brawled 
along  noisily  under  the  laurels  and  white  honey 
suckle  bushes,  and  above,  along  the  steep  hill,  was 
the  debris  from  a  coal  mine,  the  mouth  of  which  had 
caved  in  and  had  evidently  been  abandoned  for  years 
while  slate  and  slack  from  it  were  strewn  around  to 
the  fording  place. 

' '  Now  what?"  asked  Jubal.  ' '  Where  do  you  think 
the  path  goes  from  here?  " 

' '  I  think  it  goes  down  the  stream  to  where  another 
little  spring  runs  into  it;  and — and  up  that  spring 
hollow  is  a  clear  place  an' — a  house.  Jubal,  what 


1 96  COMRADES 

makes  me  feel  like  this?  We  never  did  hunt  herbs 
here  before!  I— -I— 

But  he  walked  ahead,  giving  Jubal  no  time  to  reply 
and  no  other  words  were  exchanged.  They  reached 
the  little  stream  where  it  joined  the  big  one,  and  the 
path  of  the  pig  tracks  led  up  along  the  little  stream. 
He  turned  around  and  the  blue  eyes  met  the  black 
ones,  and  seemed  to  question  it  all,  as  they  turned 
around  a  knoll  and  were  in  front  of  a  little  log  house, 
nestled  snugly  under  the  shadow  of  the  mountain. 

A  little  stumpy  clearing  reached  up  above  it; 
some  old  untrimmed  apple  trees  and  sickly  looking 
peach  trees  were  scattered  about  at  random ;  a  sun- 
bonneted  figure  was  hoeing  cabbage  plants  in  front 
of  the  door,  and  when  a  little  dog  barked  the  woman 
raised  suddenly  and  they  could  see  she  looked 
startled  as  well  as  surprised.  She  was  a  slouchy 
girl,  with  a  pretty,  listless  face,  and  she  stepped 
back  nearer  the  door  as  the  strangers  approached. 
The  white  man  dropped  in  the  rear,  and  Jubal  was 
again  the  spokesman. 

' '  We  hope  you'll  excuse  us, Miss, "  he  said,  making 
a  big  bow  with  his  hat  in  his  hand.  "My  boss 
an '  me  are  kind  o '  got  out  o '  the  right  road  an ' 
strayed  up  here.  We're  both  powerful  tired,  Miss, 
an'  would  like  to  ask  a  drink  o'  milk  if  you  could 
spare  it." 

The  young  woman  stared  at  them  stolidly  for  a 
moment;  strangers  were  things  of  wonder  at  their 
door. 

"Where   you   from?"     she   demanded    bluntly. 


COMRADES  197 

Jubal  told  her,  and  she  softened  a  little  when  Mr. 
Poindexter  closed  his  eyes  wearily  and  leaned  against 
the  crooked  plum  tree  by  the  path. 

"Well,  you  can  come  in,"  she  agreed  ungracious 
ly.  ' '  Your  boss  does  look  played  out ;  is  he  sick?  " 

' '  Pie  hain  't  never  been  right  well  sence  war  times, 
'count  of  a  hurt  he  got  then ;  but  he  ain  't  right  down 
sick,  are  you,  Mr.  Malcolm?  " 

"No,  Jubal,  only  the  sun  felt  hot  on  my  head 
down  there." 

The  young  woman  glanced  at  him.  The  light 
colored,  curly  beard,  covering  all  his  face,  gave  him 
the  stout  look  of  a  farmer ;  and  then  he  was  such  a 
tall,  well-grown  man,  if  only  his  face  above  the  beard 
did  not  look  such  a  bluish  white. 

"It  was  on  the  head  he  was  hurt,"  explained 
Jubal,  noticing  her  scrutiny.  "Jest  drink  that  milk, 
Mr.  Malcolm ;  it 's  better  for  you  than  the  spirits  the 
man  offered  you  to-day." 

For  she  had  gone  to  the  little  milk  house  only  a 
few  steps  from  the  door,  and  carried  in  a  jar  of  sweet 
milk,  and  handed  them  a  tin  dipper  with  which  to 
help  themselves. 

"  Mother  wouldn't  want  me  to  let  anybody  go  by 
hungry  or  dry  if  they  wear  the  blue  clothes  you  'uns 
do,"  she  observed.  "Mother  is  up  on  the  moun 
tain  after  bean  poles.  She  gets  a  pension  from  the 
government  for  a  brother  o'  mine  that  was  killed 
an '  we  know  two  men  about  here  that  got  pensions 
for  hurts.  Do  you  get  a  pension  ?  " 

She  looked  at  the  fair-whiskered  man  and  he  only 
shook  his  head  and  repeated,  ' '  A  pension?  " 


COMRADES 

' '  You  see,  Miss,  we  hain  't  been  liven  where  folks 
knowed  about  pensions,"  said  Jubal,  quickly.  "An 
as  his  folks  are  gone,  an'  he  has  been  ailen,  there  jest 
warn 't  no  one  to  manage  it  but  me ;  an '  the  govern 
ment  ain  't  noways  likely  to  pay  much  notice  to  an 
old  colored  man  they  wouldn't  give  a  gun  to ;  an'  it 
takes  a  heap  o'  proven  things  in  court  to  get  a 
pension  through,  don't  it,  Miss?  " 

"'Deed  it  does,"  she  assented.  "  Not  thet  it 
was  hard  for  mother,  cause  Zach  wasn't  a  common 
soldier.  His  general  had  made  him  an  officer,  so  he 
was  easier  to  keep  track  of.  An'  land  sakes!  How 
all  the  folks  did  laugh  when  word  come  that  Zach 
was  made  some  sort  of  officer.  I  wasn  't  growed  up 
then,  but  I  do  mind  how  the  other  men  an'  boys 
made  jokes  over  it.  but  not  where  mammy  could 
hear  them,"  she  added.  "For  Zach  wasn't  an 
earthly  bit  o'  good  on  the  place.  He  nearly  lived  in 
the  woods,  an'  was  always  letten'  on  to  hunt  cata 
mounts  over  yonder  in  the  ledges,  or  some  other 
thing  there  was  no  use  in,  an '  whistle  to  the  birds  till 
he  could  mock  any  one  o '  them  jest  as  handy.  Why, 
I  mind  how  they  set  him  out  on  a  fence  to  watch 
the  crows  out  o '  the  corn,  an '  stead  o '  driven  them 
away  he  was  mocken  them  just  like  they  call  till  the 
ground  was  nigh  black  with  them,  an '  when  Dad — 
that  was  afore  Dad  died —  when  he  went  down  there 
was  the  crows  pullen  out  the  little  stalks  to  get  the 
corn  grain  on  the  roots,  an '  there  was  Zach,  pleased 
as  could  be,  a  sitten  on  the  fence  an'  chatteren  to 
them.  An '  thet  was  jest  about  as  much  useful  work 


COMRADES  199 

as  he  ever  did  do;  an'  most  folks  jest  counted  it  a 
blessen  for  Mam  thet  he  was  the  one  to  be  took 
'stead  o'  the  other  boys." 

"Then  she  had  other  sons,  too?"  asked  Jubal, 
as  he  helped  himself  to  more  milk.  "Is  'pose  these 
mountains  sent  out  a  right  smart  o'  soldiers." 

"Yes,  indeed;  Jim  an'  Joe — they're  our  two 
other  boys — they  was  older  than  Zach,  an'  they 
listed  in  the  first  lot  o '  men  thet  went  from  the 
mountain.  But  they  comeback  all  safe.  Joe, he's 
married  an'  works  at  the  blacksmith  trade  down  in 
the  settlements;  he's  awful  good  company  an'  can 
play  the  fiddle.  Now,  Zach  never  was  good  com 
pany  only  for  the  birds.  Joe  would  talk  a  heap  to 
you  about  war  times  if  he  was  here;  but  he  ain't  so 
steady  as  he  might  be,  an '  drinks  a  heap  sometimes. 
An '  Jim,  he  lives  somewheres  down  the  river — mostly 
on  the  boats  I  guess,  an '  he  don 't  ever  get  up  this 
way  any  more ;  so  thet  leaves  jest  Mam  an '  me  here 
on  the  farm  an '  Zach 's  pension  to  keep  us  on.  An ' 
thet 's  why  most  folks  count  it  a  blessen  for  Mam  thet 
he  was  the  one  to  be  made  an  officer,  an '  then  took ; 
for  more  pension  is  paid  out  for  an  officer  than  there 
is  for  a  private  soldier,  you  know." 

As  they  sat  about  the  milk  jar  and  chatted,  the 
girl  seemed  really  glad  to  have  someone  to  talk  to, 
for  visitors  were  scarce  back  there  in  the  shut-in 
valley.  She  glanced  often  at  Mr.  Poindexter  when 
talking  as  though  wondering  that  he  was  not  more 
friendly;  Jubal  drew  what  attention  he  could  from 
him — for  he  indeed  looked  weary  or  ill,  as  he  sat  with 
his  head  leaned  on  his  hand. 


200  COMRADES 

Then  another  little  dog  scampered  in  at  the  open 
door,  and  dropped,  panting,  beside  the  cupboard. 

"Marn's  comen,"  announced  the  girl.  "She's 
sure  to  talk  to  you  about  Zach  when  she  sees  your 
soldier  clothes.  That 's  if  she  sees  them,  for  her  eye 
sight  is  getten  bad  now.  She  set  a  heap  o'  store  by 
him,  though  he  always  was  kind  o '  triflen,  an '  most 
the  only  thing  he  ever  did  for  her  was  to  get  killed  an ' 
get  her  the  pension.  But  we  don't  ever  dare  say 
thet  afore  her,  'cause  he  was  her  youngest  boy,  you 
know." 

They  heard  the  swish-swish  of  poles  being  dragged 
down  behind  the  house,  then  around  to  the  door, 
where  they  were  dropped  heavily.  And  a  gray-haired 
little  woman,  with  a  sunbonnet  on,  straightened 
herself  with  an  effort,  and  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"Who  is  it,  Sally?"  she  asked,  peering  in  and 
pushing  off  her  bonnet  to  wipe  her  forehead  with  her 
apron.  "Hev  ye  company?" 

' '  Jest  some  strange  men.  They  stopped  in  to  rest 
an'  get  a  swallow  o '  milk,"  explained  her  daughter. 
"Well,  did  you  get  the  poles  easy?  " 

"Poles  wasn't  any  sort  o'  trouble,  but  I  was 
flustered  some  by  a  young  black  snake.  Lion  killed  it, 
but  I  was  a  leetle  scared,  for  fear  I  'd  step  on  another 
one,  so  I  packed  what  I  had  down  home.  Where  is 
Lion?  Give  him  a  pan  o'  that  milk,  Sally;  he  was 
a  good  dog." 

Salley  dipped  some  of  the  milk  into  a  pan  and 
gave  it  to  the  fat,  panting  little  dog  with  the  tre 
mendous  name,  and  as  the  old  woman  grew  used  to 


COMRADES  201 

the  dark  room  she  turned  her  attention  again  to  the 
newcomers. 

"Strangers  —  are  you?"  she  asked.  "What 
way  be  you  bound  for?  " 

' '  We  —we  're  from  south  o '  this,  from  down  the 
pike,  Maryland  way.  We  allow  to  go  back  there 
again,"  said  Jubal,  and  looked  at  his  companion  for 
some  spoken  word.  But  he,  from  the  dark  corner 
where  he  sat,  was  staring  in  a  troubled  way  at  the 
old  woman  and  did  not  notice  Jubal.  The  old 
woman  peered  forward. 

"You're  a  black  man,  ain't  you?"  she  asked. 
"Well  — well — it's  the  first  time  a  black  man  sat  in 
our  house.  Not  but  you're  welcome  enough;  my 
boys  fought  for  them,  an 'one  o'  them  died  for  them, 
an'  it's  as  leetle  as  I  can  do  to  give  them  a  cheer  an' 
a  drink  o '  rnilk ;  an '  -  -  an '  ain  't  them  soldier 
clothes?  " 

'Yes,  mist 'ess,  they  certainly  is,"  agreed  Jubal, 
"an*  I'm  a  sure-enough  black  man;  but  my— rny 
boss  here,  he's  a  white  man;  an'  we  both  wear  blue 
clothes  'case  we  both  seen  service." 

"You'll  excuse  an  ole  half -blind  woman  for 
niaken  a  mistake,"  she  said,  peering  into  the  corner 
where  Mr.  Poindexter  sat.  "You're  welcome,  sir, 
stranger  though  you  be,  if  only  for  the  blue  coat  you 
wear.  My  boys  was  strangers  once  down  your  wTay. 
That 's  a  long  time  ago ;  an '  my  Zach,  he  died  down 
there  amongst  strangers.  Maybe  now  you  might 
a  happened  to  know  him,  sir?  He  was  color  sergeant 
of  the  Sixtieth  Ohio  Regiment;  an'  he  was  killed 


202  COMRADES 

an'  lost  in  the  Potomac  river  in  the  springtime  of 
1862.  His  name  was  Zachary  Taylor  Dorbett." 

"Zachary  Taylor! -oh-  " 

Mr.  Poindexter  arose  to  his  feet  in  the  corner,  and 
reached  out  his  hand  involuntarily.  Jubal  grasped 
it,  and  he  sat  down  again.  Salty  was  outside 
stacking  the  bean  poles  against  the  house,  and  the 
old  woman  did  not  see  the  movement  of  the  stranger, 
or  how  quickly  all  his  face  changed.  The  perplexity 
in  it  was  gone ;  it  was  all  alight  with  understanding, 
as  if  some  door  long  closed  to  him  had  suddenly 
swung  open  at  the  touch  of  a  simple  key. 

"What  did  you  say,  sir?"  queried  the  old  moun 
tain  woman.  "No?  Well,  I'm  sorry.  I'd  like 
powerful  well  to  meet  some  o'  the  rnen  my  boy  led 
into  that  great  battle  they  wrote  me  of.  One  o '  his 
comrades,  Mr.  Clay  Todd,  he  wrote  me  two  letters 
an '  told  me  how  proud  his  company  was  of  my  boy. 
An'  even  his  captain  wrote  me  a  letter  himself  when 
my  boy  was  killed,  an '  said  he  never  hoped  to  have 
a  braver  lad  under  his  command.  Yes,  sir;  they 
wrote  me  powerful  pretty  letters ;  but  oh  me !  The 
fine  words  couldn't  give  my  boy  back  to  me!  " 

And  she  rocked  to  and  fro  on  the  little  home-made 
chair,  and  the  tears  gathering  thick  in  her  eyes  were 
wiped  away  with  the  gingham  apron. 

"He  was  only  a  boy,  you  know— -my  Zach,"  she 
continued,  "maybe  that's  why  I  can't  get  recon 
ciled.  A  boy  nineteen  seems  mighty  young  to 
be  shot  down  like  that.  But  they  wrote  me 
he  didn't  suffer  none.  Jest  dropped  back  dead 


COMRADES  203 

into  the  water  when  the  bullet  struck  his  forehead. 
He  never  was  found,  for  the  water  washed  him 
away;  but  he  would  a'  been  easy  to  identify,  for  a 
piece  had  been  shot  off  his  right  ear,  an'  he  had  a 
bullet  wound  in  his  right  arm." 

She  dwelt  on  these  points  with  the  sad  persistence 
of  one  to  whom  they  were  daily  food  for  thought, 
and  did  not  notice  that  the  stranger  was  looking 
remorsefully  at  his  one  shriveled  arm  that  would 
never  do  a  strong  man's  work  again,  and  that  his 
one  hand  crept  up  to  pull  forward  the  curled  hair 
over  an  ear  from  which  a  circular  bit  was  out. 

"Still,  I  suppose  I  hain't  as  much  call  to  grieve 
as  some  others,"  she  continued  with  forced  cheer 
fulness.  "I  had  two  boys  left  to  me,  an'  the  one 
that's  gone  had  a  chance  to  prove  himself  a  man 
afore  he  was  called,  an'  thet's  a  sort  o'  comfort,  too. 
Then  the  government  has  done  fair  by  me.  They 
will  provide  for  me  the  rest  o '  my  days,  an '  send  the 
money  regular  every  three  months.  So  Sally  an' 
rne,  haven  our  own  little  bit  o '  land,  too,  manage  to 
live  more  comfortable  than  we  have  for  years  back ; 
an'  that  counts  for  a  heap,  when  ye  get  along  in 
years,  jest  to  know  that  the  coffee  pot  don 't  need  to 
be  empty,  an '  that  ye  can  eat  wheat  bread  all  winter 
if  so  be  ye  want  to." 

" Yes,  indeedy,  that's  true,"  agreed  Jubal.  "An* 
the  government  is  mighty  good  about  helpen  when 
it  can,  I  reckon." 

"Yes — yes,  it's  good;  but  so  were  the  men  we 
sent  to  fight  for  it.  Some  hard-tongued  folks  say 


204  COMRADES 

the  pension  money  makes  me  a  better  livin'  than  my 
boy  Zach  would  have  made  for  me.  I  don 't  know ; 
he  was  only  a  boy  an '  not  settled  yet ;  but  I  do  know 
if  he  could  only  walk  up  that  path  again,  strong  an* 
hearty  like  he  used  to  be,  I  'd  cheerful  let  the  govern 
ment  folks  keep  their  money — that  I  would." 

The  man  in  the  corner  half  raised  from  his  chair, 
but  sank  back  again  with  a  glance  at  his  stricken 
arm.  "  Strong  and  hearty  like  he  used  to  be?  Never 
— never!" 

"Sally,  you  come  in  an'  get  a  bite  airly,  so  these 
soldier  boys  can  have  a  little  supper  afore  they  start 
out  to  the  road  again,"  called  the  old  woman. 

But  Jubal,  with  a  questioning  look  into  Mr.  Mal 
colm 's  face,  protested. 

"No,  Mist 'ess,  youah  mighty  kind  to  strangers, 
but  we  've  rested  now,  thank  ye,  an '  must  be  travel- 
len  on.  Mr.  Malcolm,  here,  my  boss,  he's  not  been 
very  well,  an'  I  surely  had  to  get  him  rested  a 
spell.  I  reckon  we  won 't  be  stayen  longer,  but  thet 
milk  was  worth  comen  up  here  for." 

"You're  jest  as  welcome  to  a  cup  of  coffee,"  she 
began.  But  the  white  man  arose. 

"No,  ma'am — thanky,  ma'am,"  he  said  hastily, 
in  a  voice  new  to  Jubal,  it  was  so  hoarse  and  tremu 
lous.  "We  can't  stay,  so  don't  bother.  I'm  sorry 
I  didn  't  meet  your  boy  down  south.  But  that  ain  't 
curious.  There  was  too  many  to  know  them  all." 

"  Sally  —  Sally! "  called  the  mother  again.  "Jest 
come  in  an'  get  the  captain's  letter  about 
my  boy.  I'd  like  to  have  these  men  hear  it; 


COMRADES  205 

it'll  only  take  a  minute,"  she  added  persuasively, 
"an'  you  might  sometime  come  across  folks  as 
knowed  him  down  there  along  the  Potomac  River. 
Sally  can  read  it ;  she  reads  real  good." 

The  two  waited  while  Sally  entered,  and  with 
scant  veneration  whipped  a  bundle  of  letters  out  of  a 
cigar  box  over  the  clock  and  untied  the  string  from 
about  them. 

"  I  could  say  them  all  off  by  heart  jest  as  well  as  to 
open  the  papers,"  she  said,  with  a  shrug  of  her 
shoulders.  "Mam  does  want  them  read  so  plagued 
often,  an'  every  Sunday  regular." 

"Never  mind,  Sally;  it  does  me  good,"  said  the 
old  woman,  rocking  herself  placidly,  and  eyeing  with 
pride  the  several  documents  so  important  in  her  eyes. 

" That's  the  one  the  captain  sent,"  she  said,  point 
ing  to  a  worn  yellow  envelope ;  and  then  the  girl  read 
aloud  in  a  sing-song  way  an  earnest  letter  of  condol 
ence  to  the  mountain  mother.  It  spoke  of  her  boy 
as  a  young  hero,  "utterly  fearless;"  "brave  enough 
to  set  an  example  of  daring  to  the  entire  regiment;" 
"his  heroism  will  ever  be  honored  by  every  soldier 
who  followed  the  colors  he  carried  then."  These 
and  like  expressions  were  penned  there  by  an  officer 
brave  enough  himself  to  honor  the  bravery  of  a  sub 
ordinate. 

And  the  old  woman  nodded  her  head  to  emphasize 
the  sentence. 

"  That  was  my  boy  Zach,"  she  said  with  a  sad  sort 
of  pride.  "  He  was  a  brave  soldier — Oh,  my  Zach! " 

She  put  her  apron  up  to  her  face,  and  Mr.  Poin- 


206  COMRADES 

dexter  arose  and  walked  out  of  the  door  pulling  his 
hat  low  over  his  eyes.  She  and  Sally  looked  after 
him  curiously. 

"He — he's  lost  some  fren's  too,"  explained  Jubal 
hastily.  "Don'  you 'ens  think  he  ain't  interested 
in  youah  trouble,  cause  he  certainly  is;  but — well, 
he's  lost  some  folks,  too." 

The  old  woman  nodded:  "I  know  then."  She 
said  softly,  "  He's  a  nice,  big-looken  man,  ain't  he?" 
Then  she  walked  ahead  of  Jubal  out  to  a  little  bed  in 
the  garden.  Mr.  Poindexter  leaned  against  a  plum 
tree  and  looked  carefully  over  the  poor  little  farm. 

"Here's  a  flower  bed  I  always  call  Zach's,"  said 
the  old  woman.  "When  we  heard  he  was  shot 
there  was  a  girl  over  the  hill  cried  nigh  about  as  much 
as  me.  Her  name  was  Caroline  Dawes — we  called 
her  Carrie.  She  came  over  an '  we  fixed  up  this  bed, 
jest  as  if  he  had  been  buried  at  home,  ye  know.  She 
brought  that  pink  rose  an '  planted  it,  an '  I  got  that 
white,  speckled  stone  from  the  ledge  one  day  an' 
put  it  there  as  a  sort  o '  monyment.  An '  after  we 
got  it  all  fixed  up,  Carrie  often  came  here,  an '  we  'd 
set  out  alongside  of  it  an'  talk  about  Zach.  She 
died  two  years  ago,  an '  is  buried  down  in  the  settle 
ment  graveyard;  but  I  jest  hunted  'round  till  I 
found  a  stone  to  match  the  other,  an'  I  planted 
another  bush  in  the  bed,  a  white  one.  So  that  it 
kind  o '  looks  to  me  as  if  they  both  lay  there,  side  by 
side,  asleep.  That 's  all  I  '11  ever  plant  here,  an '  that 
white  rose  an'  the  pink  has  grown  till  their  nigh 
meeten  now." 


COMRADES  207 

"Yes,"  said  the  stranger,  looking  down  on  the  two 
stones  shining  in  the  sunlight,  and  the  two  roses  toss 
ing  their  odorous  bloom  together.  "  I  'm  fond  of 
flowers  —  specially  roses;  might  I  pick  one?" 

"  To  be  sure  you  may — jest  as  many  as  you  like," 
said  the  old  woman,  trying  to  look  up  at  him,  and 
failing  because  of  the  sun  in  her  eyes. 

He  only  took  two  —  a  pink  and  a  white  one. 

"Thank  you,  ma'am,  thank  you  kindly,"  he  said, 
lifting  his  hat  and  taking  a  long  look  at  her.  "  Come, 
Jubal." 

He  did  not  ask  the  road;  he  walked  out  of  the 
forest  as  he  had  walked  into  it,  without  a  guide ;  and 
he  never  halted  until  they  reached  the  great  road 
leading  back  to  Maryland.  Then  he  stopped  and 
reached  out  his  hand  to  Jubal. 

"You  are  Jubal,  anyway,"  he  said — "good  old 
Jubal!  One  of  the  things  I'm  glad  about  to-day  is 
that  I  don 't  think  I  '11  forget  things  again.  I  '11  never 
forget  what  you've  done  for  me." 

"  Shoo! "  answered  Jubal,  glancing  at  his  own  blue 
clothes.  "If  I  couldn't  fight,  I  could  try  to  help 
some  that  did;  that  is  the  onliest  use  I  could  be." 

"My  head  aches,  Jubal,  an'  I  can't  make  out  to 
think  very  clear;  but  I  want  you  to  tell  me  some 
thing — to  tell  me  straight.  Am  I  ever  likely  to  be 
strong  again — strong  enough  to  work  and  keep  any 
one  outside  myself — strong  enough  to  earn  as  much 
as  that  pension  money?" 

Jubal  shook  his  head  sadly,  "  You  can 't  lift  twenty 
pounds  with  that  right  arm,  an'  that  hole  in  your 


2o8  COMRADES 

head  is  like  to  fetch  on  a  fever  any  summer  day 
you're  forced  into  the  hot  sun.  No,  sir;  you  can 
whittle  out  a  liven  for  yourself  down  there  in  our 
cabin,  Mr. — Mr.  Malcolm.  But  you  haint  got 
strength  for  'sponsiblities." 

The  man  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  groaned 
aloud  at  his  weakness.  Jubal  watched  him  with 
utter  devotion  in  his  old  black  eyes,  and  picked  up 
for  him  the  pink  rose  that  slipped  from  his  fingers. 

"Mr.  Malcolm — honey,"  he  said,  encouragingly, 
"don't  you  grieve  so,  an'  don't  you  get  weak  in 
youah  heart.  That  was  a  brave  soldier  the  old  lady 
tole  us  about  back  there.  He  was  so  brave  they 
said  he  was  a  pattern  for  men  to  follow ;  so  don 't  you 
forget  that  pattern,  Mr.  Malcolm;  that's  the  man 
you  must  live  up  to  all  the  rest  o'  your  born  days, 
honey." 

The  curled  fair  head  nodded.  He  thrust  the  roses 
into  the  inner  pocket  of  his  coat  and  arose,  pulling 
himself  together  with  an  effort. 

"All  right,  Jubal,"  he  said,  "we're  comrades  then 
—boys  in  blue— -the  rest  of  our  lives.  Come,  let 
us  go  home." 

Then  the  black  hand  clasped  the  white  one,  and 
turning  their  backs  on  the  fragrant  hills  of  the  laurels, 
they  walked  southward  together. 

They  never  talked  of  that  one  day  on  the  northern 
mountain,  or  of  that  pensioner  up  there ;  and  neither 
did  their  imaginations  claim  the  fine  plantations 
and  carriages  they  passed.  Illusions  were  over  for 
Mr.  Poindexter. 


COMRADES  209 

All  that  summer  he  whittled  and  shaped  baskets 
and  chairs  and  whistled  early  and  late  to  the  birds; 
but  when  the  maples  turned  to  flame  color  in  the 
frosts  he  spoke  often  of  the  pain  growing  and  grow 
ing  in  his  head,  and  in  his  sleep  he  muttered  of  the 
ledge,  and  catamounts,  of  Carrie,  and  mammy,  and 
the  roses. 

Then  one  day  he  could  not  rise  and  could  not  see 
because  of  the  pain,  and  Jubal  tramped  to  Piedmont 
for  a  doctor — a  man  conceded  to  be  the  best  in  that 
part  of  the  state.  But  he  shook  his  head  when  he 
saw  the  old  wound  and  noted  the  mad  fever. 

"Has  he  any  friends  to  send  word  to?"  he  asked. 
And  Jubal  answered,  "No,  sir — no  one  knows  him 
now  but  jest  me." 

"Well,  you're  a  faithful  fellow,"  observed  the 
doctor.  "  I  would  not  mind  having  you  with  me  as 
a  nurse.  If  you  ever  want  a  place  let  me  know. 
You've  done  the  best  that  could  be  done  with  a 
wound  like  that.  This  sort  of  an  end  was  sure  to 
come  sooner  or  later.  The  wonder  is  it  did  not  come 
before." 

"  I  'd  got  a  doctor  long  ago,  but  I  was  afraid  they  'd 
go  to  cutten,  an'  kill  him  with  their  knives.  I've 
seen  such  things  in  the  war  times,  sir." 

"  And  I  too,"  muttered  the  doctor.  "  He  was  just 
as  well  left  alone;  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time. 
You're  a  good  friend,  Jubal." 

"We  was  comrades,"  said  old  Jubal,  proudly — 
"'Comrade'  is  what  he  called  me,  sir,  when  he  was 
in  his  right  mind,  an '  I  ain  't  asken  higher  honor,  sir." 

"Who  is  the  man?" 
1-1 


210  COMRADES 

"A  brave  soldier,  sir,"  said  Jubal,  with  impressive 
reticence ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  doctor 's  roof  had 
sheltered  the  faithful  old  fellow  for  many  years  that 
he  told  more  fully  the  story  that  is  told  here. 

And  his  words  there  by  the  bedside  must  have 
reached  the  ears  of  the  man  who  was  passing  so 
swiftly  out  of  their  world,  for  he  flung  out  his  hand 
and  laughed  softly.  "  Give  me  the  flag! "  he  gasped. 
"The  general  said — 'A  brave  soldier.'  So  come, 
boys — Jubal — the  colors  are  wanted — I  am  to  take 
them — up  front." 


PERSEPHONE 

In  the  first  place,  I  did  not  want  to  go.  It  was 
all  Jack's  fault.  We  visited  America  that  he  might 
become  acquainted  with  some  of  his  father's  rela 
tives  who  live  in  Philadelphia.  While  there  my 
little  cough,  which  troubles  me  sometimes,  seemed 
worse  than  usual,  and  Jack  insisted  that  I  should 
spend  the  summer  in  the  Balsam  Hills  of  Carolina, 
where  the  air,  sifting  through  the  firs,  is  said  to 
carry  with  it  healing  for  all  lung  troubles. 

I  objected  until  he  put  in  a  plea  that  I  might  go 
for  his  sake  if  not  for  my  own,  as  he  had  been  told 
that  the  scenery  was  well  worth  a  visit,  and  was 
quite  out  of  the  beaten  path  of  tourists.  So,  seeing 
that  he  was  very  anxious  to  make  some  sketches 
of  the  country  before  our  return  to  England,  I  con 
sented,  with  many  misgivings,  for  my  experience 
has  taught  me  that  when  you  attempt  to  make  new 
paths,  rather  than  follow  the  beaten  ones  of  the 
tourist,  you  may  make  up  your  mind  to  put  up 
with  many  inconveniences.  But  I  have  alwavs 
humored  Jack ;  so  I  went.  I  am  his  aunt. 

On  the  evening  of  our  arrival  at  that  very  peculiar 
hotel — or  rather  the  one  house  in  the  straggling 
mountain  village  where  they  condescended  to  "  keep 
folks  sometimes,"  I  heard  the  landlord  tell  his  wife: 


212  PERSEPHONE 

"There  is  two  of  'em,  a  funny-looking  little  old 
maid,  and  a  young  man  with  some  painted  pictures. 
Reckon  maybe  he  is  goin'  to  try  an'  sell  'em  through 
here.  It's  bringin'  his  pigs  to  a  poor  market.  An' 
they  want  four  rooms — so  hustle  around!" 

The  assertion  of  Mr.  Snodgrass  that  I  am  an  old 
maid  is  correct,  and  I  always  expect  to  be  one.  I 
am  fifty-four  years  old,  and  I  have  no  idea  of  chang 
ing  the  name  I  have  borne  so  long. 

Once,  I  had.  It  was  thirty  years  ago.  I  had 
promised;  but  I  broke  my  word  and  took  off  my 
engagement  ring  when  I  saw  how  my  sister  Betty, 
who  was  just  seventeen  then,  would  listen  to  Jack's 
voice,  as  if  it  were  the  only  thing  in  this  world  worth 
hearing,  when  he  came  to  spend  the  evenings  with 
me.  And  when  she  came  home  from  school,  so  tall 
and  so  very  pretty,  and  Jack's  eyes  would  look  at 
her  admiringly,  as  I  knew  they  never  could  look  at 
me — I  was  always  plain — well,  when  I  saw  all  this, 
which  they  thought  no  one  noticed,  I  decided  I  did 
not  want  to  get  married,  and  I  told  Jack  so.  He 
did  not  say  much.  He  only  went  away,  and  it  was 
three  years  before  he  came  back.  He  was  a  sailor, 
as  his  father  had  been  before  him.  Betty  was 
twenty  when  he  returned,  and  had  many  beaux; 
but  I  had  never  known  her  to  listen  to  any  man's 
words  as  she  had  to  Jack's — whom  she  often  spoke 
of.  So  I  sent  for  him  to  come  and  see  me,  and  he 
came. 

"Have  you  changed  your  mind?"  he  asked. 


PERSEPHONE  213 

"Not  this  time,"  I  said;  "I  settled  in  my  own 
mind,  three  years  ago,  what  was  best  for  you  and 
me.  I  will  never  change  it." 

"You  are  sure  it  is  best?"  he  asked. 

"  I  am  sure,"  I  answered.  "  I  will  marry  no  one. 
But  you  and  I  were  boy  and  girl  together,  Jack. 
We  must  be  friends  still.  And,  some  day,  when 
you  find  a  wife  who  cares  for  you  as  a  woman  should 
care  for  her  husband,  then  you  will  say  I  was  sensible. 

"Then  you  never  cared?" 

"Not  that  way,"  I  said,  and  laughed. 

Betty  came  in  while  we  talked,  her  face  flushing 
with  pleasure  at  sight  of  him.  When  he  bade  me 
good-night  at  the  door,  he  said:  "She  is  as  pretty 
as  ever.  Even  as  a  child  I  thought  her  one  of  the 
prettiest  creatures  I  ever  saw." 

He  said  it  carelessly,  to  hide  his  real  feeling  before 
me — as  if  I  did  not  know! 

I  often  invited  him  to  come,  and  always  left  them 
together,  until  he  saw  plainly  I  approved  their  love 
affair  And  when  Betty  was  twenty-two  he  came 
to  tell  me  he  was  going  to  ask  her  if  she  would  be 
his  wife. 

I  suppose  I  was  glad.  I  know  I  smiled  and  en 
couraged  him,  for  duller  eyes  than  mine  could  see 
that  he  was  everything  to  Betty. 

Soon  after  that  they  were  married,  and  he  took 
her  with  him  for  a  year's  cruise  as  a  wedding  trip, 
for  he  had  his  own  vessel  then.  He  named  it 
Jeanne — it  was  his  mother's  name;  it  is  mine,  too. 


214  PERSEPHONE 

I  was  glad  they  went  away  until  I  got  used  to  the 
idea  of  Betty  being  his  wife. 

She  never  came  back,  for  she  died  on  ship-board, 
and  he  brought  back  a  little  babe,  a  boy,  and  car 
ried  it  straight  to  me. 

"I  knew  you  could  tell  me  what  I  had  best  do 
with  it,"  he  said. 

"I  can,"  I  answered.     "You  can  give  it  to  me." 

"To  you?  I  could  not  burden  you  with  the  care 
of  it." 

"Is  there  anything  in  this  world  I  would  count  a 
burden,  if  done  for  you?"  I  said,  not  thinking. 
You  see  the  news  of  Betty's  death  and  the  child  and 
all,  brought  so  much  into  my  heart  that  for  a  mo 
ment  I  forgot,  and  must  have  shown  more  in  my 
voice  than  he  had  suspected  in  all  the  years  since  I 
told  him  I  could  not  marry  him,  for  he  grew  quite 
white,  and  looked  at  me  steadily. 

"I  may  never  come  back,"  he  said,  at  length. 
"  If  I  don't,  will  you  see  to  the  child?  He  will  have 
money,  but  no  love  unless  you  give  it  to  him.  I 
shall  always  think  of  him  as  he  is  now,  with  your 
arms  around  him.  It  is  a  picture  I  shall  never 
forget.  And  now,  good-by!" 

Then  he  left  me  there  with  the  boy,  and  I  never 
saw  him  again.  He  died  of  yellow  fever,  two  years 
later,  so  that  the  child  became  all  my  own.  I  called 
him  Jack,  after  his  father,  and  I  have  tried  always 
to  be  mother  and  father,  both,  to  him. 

So  that  is  the  sort  of  relationship  between  my 


PERSEPHONE  215 

boy  and  me,  and  explains  the  importance  in  my 
eyes  of  all  things  pertaining  to  him.  He  is  a  good 
boy,  and  was  twenty-five  that  summer  in  America. 

Since  a  child  he  has  been  ambitious  to  be  a  painter, 
and  people  who  know  much  more  than  I  do  have 
told  me  he  is  sure  to  make  a  name  in  art,  if  he  lives. 
So  I  let  nothing  stand  in  the  way  of  his  desires,  and 
used  to  travel  with  him  to  many  of  the  places  where 
it  was  necessary  for  him  to  go  to  study. 

For  two  years  we  were  in  Italy,  and  he  says  he  is 
going  back  next  year;  but  lately  my  cough,  though 
trifling,  has  seemed  to  tire  me  too  much  to  take  long 
journeys ;  so  I  don't  hope  to  go  with  him  again.  And 
he  will  miss  me  sorely,  I  am  afraid,  for  he  never 
seems  to  think  of  having  a  wife  for  a  companion. 
To  ladies  he  is  carelessly  gallant,  and  has  always 
been  a  favorite  with  them.  But  I  have  never  seen 
in  his  acquaintance  with  any  the  least  indications 
of  serious  intentions.  When  I  have  broached  the 
subject,  he  has  laughed  and  said: 

"  I  keep  all  my  love  for  you,  Auntie  Jeanne.  You 
and  I  will  be  a  jolly  old  maid  and  old  bachelor  to 
gether." 

But  I  began  to  tell  about  our  stay  in  America. 
I  may  be  laughed  at  for  my  pains — I  have  no  doubt 
I  shall  be  thought  an  imaginative  old  woman — but 
I  maintain  that  what  I  am  going  to  narrate  was  a 
very  peculiar  coincidence. 

Our  rooms  at  Mr.  Snodgrass'  were  far  from  lux 
urious,  the  house-furnishing  being  rather  primitive, 


216  PERSEPHONE 

but  Jack  was  in  ecstasies.  He  likes  "roughing  it," 
as  he  calls  it,  and  before  we  had  been  there  two 
weeks  he  had  a  great  many  sketches  and  studies 
for  finishing  later.  The  only  drawback  to  his 
enjoyment  was  his  fear  that  I  might  be  lonely  when 
he  was  away  all  day,  as  he  often  was.  I  thought 
I  could  pick  up  a  maid  or  companion  there,  but 
found  it  was  not  so  easy.  Our  landlady  had  two 
daughters  who  offered  their  services — which  I  de 
clined.  They  were  both  very  yellow,  with  straight 
sandy  hair  and  vacant  faces.  I  am  old  and  ugly 
myself,  but  I  like  to  have  youth  and  grace  about 
me. 

"  Don't  you  see  any  pretty  girls  in  your  rambles?" 
I  asked  Jack  one  morning,  when  the  sight  of  the 
funereal  peaks  of  the  Balsam  Mountains  were  be 
ginning  to  seem  oppressive  by  their  changeless 
darkness.  The  valleys  below  them  were  beautiful, 
but  I  could  see  nothing  of  those  from  my  window; 
our  stopping  place  was  too  far  up  the  mountain. 

"None  that  you  would  want  around  you,"  said 
Jack.  "You  are  hard  to  please,  Auntie  Jeanne, 
but  I  will  keep  my  eyes  open  for  you.  I  will  ask 
some  of  the  natives." 

In  the  evening  he  came  home  jubilant 

"I  have  got  track  of  one  at  last,"  he  said.  "I 
have  made  lots  of  blunders  in  this  queer  neighbor 
hood.  One  man  down  the  mountain  said  he  would 
ask  his  daughters  if  they  knew  of  anyone.  I  sug 
gested  that  one  of  his  daughters  might  be  willing 


PERSEPHONE  217 

to  come  herself,  when  he  froze  me  by  the  informa 
tion  that  I  had  made  a  mistake,  sah.  He  was  a 
Southern  gentleman  whose  family  had  never  yet 
been  under  master  or  mistress,  and  could  not  begin 
now,  sah.  Well,  auntie,  I  saw  the  wife  and  daughter 
of  the  Southern  gentleman  a  little  later.  They 
were  both  barefooted,  but  they  invited  me  in  as 
ceremoniously  as  if  they  wore  regal  robes  for  the 
reception  of  visitors.  I  am  sorry  you  can't  climb 
over  the  hills  with  me  and  see  more  of  the  people. 
There  are  such  queer  types  among  them.  The  most 
extreme  poverty  does  not  prevent  them  welcoming 
a  newcomer  as  if  they  were  sovereigns  giving  a 
traveler  the  freedom  of  their  territory." 

"But  what  of  the  girl?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  yes.  Well,  she  has  been  keeping  a  little 
school  near  here,  and  has  just  closed  it.  An  old 
darkey  told  me  of  her  — says  she  is  mighty  pert- 
looking,  and  has  an  education.  She  has  to  make 
her  own  living,  and  he  thinks  she  would  come.  She 
lives  near  the  log  school-house  on  the  county  road. 
You  can  drive  there  in  the  morning.  Her  name  is 
Percy  Atkins." 

In  the  morning  Jack  had  left  for  the  hills  before 
I  was  up,  so  I  went  alone.  When  I  told  Mrs.  Snod- 
grass  I  wanted  her  son  to  drive  me  to  Miss  Percy 
Atkins'  after  breakfast,  she  tossed  her  head  in  a 
peculiar  manner.  No  doubt  she  divined  my  errand, 
and  resented  it  as  a  slight  on  her  own  daughters. 

"Oh,  very  well,  marm,  very  well,"  she  said,  and 


218  PERSEPHONE 

as  she  closed  the  door  between  the  dining-room  and 
kitchen  I  heard  her  say:  "Miss  Percy  Atkins! 
Miss  Percy  Atkins,  indeed!" 

I  found  the  house  a  very  small,  very  old,  and 
very  pretty  stone  cottage  almost  hidden  from  the 
road  by  the  thick  growth  of  pine  trees  in  front  of  it. 
A  neat-looking  black  woman  came  out  and  asked 
me  to  "Light,  and  walk  in." 

I  did  so  and  found  the  little  sitting-room  very 
tasteful  in  its  furnishing,  or  rather  in  the  arrange 
ment  of  the  furniture,  much  of  which  was  entirely 
too  elegant  and  imposing  for  such  close  quarters, 
although  it  all  seemed  very  old.  The  carpet  was 
made  from  rags,  but  the  table  and  a  huge  sideboard 
were  of  carved  mahogany.  Some  rudely  framed 
water-colors  were  very  good.  A  guitar  lay  on  the 
table.  Bright  bits  of  color,  in  the  way  of  flowers 
in  old-fashioned  cut-glass  goblets,  were  in  every 
available  nook,  and  in  the  corner-bracket  deco 
rated  with  pine  cones  were  several  books,  all  well 
worn,  which  from  the  binding  and  brown  tinge  of 
the  leaves  looked  as  if  they  had  served  more  than 
one  generation  of  readers. 

While  the  woman  went  to  call  Miss  Atkins,  I  sat 
down  in  an  old-fashioned  straight-backed  chair, 
and  looked  around  me  with  a  sense  of  pleasure  in 
the  thought  that  I  might  get  as  companion  the  girl 
who  evidently  had  arranged  the  flowers,  and  whose 
taste  had  done  so  much  to  redeem  all  that  heavy 
furniture  from  stiffness. 


PERSEPHONE  219 

The  woman  had  scarcely  left  the  room  when  I 
heard  voices  outside  the  window — a  man's  and  a 
woman's. 

"I  tell  you,  I  don't  allow  to  wait  much  longer; 
'tain't  no  use!"  said  the  man. 

"Two  months  more,  that  is  not  long,"  and  the 
pleading  voice  was  soft  and  very  sweet.  In  that 
moment  I  fell  in  love  with  the  owner. 

"It  is  that  much  too  long,"  growled  the  man; 
"you  promised  your  mother  it  should  be  before 
this." 

"If  I  hadn't  promised  her — 

"  You  would  try  to  draw  back  now,"  broke  in  the 
man  fiercely,  "but  you  can't.  You  swore  to  your 
promise,  and  it's  a  promise  to  the  dead.  You 
seemed  willin'  enough  then."  Then  more  gently: 
"  And  you  will  be  again,  honey.  It's  just  the  learnen 
and  the  study  that's  weaned  you  away  like;  that 
will  all  come  right  when  you  get  up  there  on  the 
mountain  with  nothen  else  to  think  of.  And  I  will 
be  so  good  to  you!" 

"You  are  too  good  and  patient  with  me,  Hen — 
a  great  deal  too  much  so." 

"Pshaw!  No  I  ain't.  I  get  riled  sometimes 
when  you  seem  as  if  you  want  to  draw  back;  but 
it's  all  over  in  a  minute.  I  am  goin'  now,  good-by, 
honey;  and  don't  forget  what  you  promised  your 
mother.  I'll  be  back  in  two  months.  Good-by." 


220  PERSEPHONE 

Then  I  heard  them  both  walk  away,  and  directly 
afterward  the  black  woman  spoke  to  someone  in 
the  little  hall. 

"Miss  Perse,  where  on  yeth  you  been?  I  was 
looken  all  ovah  the  house  fer  yeh.  Here's  a  lady 
to  see  you — some  quality,  too.  Here's  her  keerd. 
Fix  up  a  bit  fore  you  go  in.  Ye  look  awful  pale 
to-day.  You's  always  pale  enough — de  Good  Man 
knows!" 

"Never  mind,  Cassie,"  said  the  soft  voice.  "It 
doesn't  matter  how  I  look,  I  suppose.  I  must  not 
keep  the  lady  waiting." 

Then  Cassie  opened  the  door. 

"Here  is  Miss  Perse,  now;  couldn't  find  her  no- 
whars  afore,"  explained  that  personage,  with  a  free 
dom  you  never  find  in  an  English  servant.  Her 
mistress  did  not  check  her,  but  seemed  to  take  it  as 
a  matter  of  course. 

One  of  the  peculiarities  I  noticed  in  that  country 
was  the  familiarity  of  the  colored  servants,  which 
scarcely  seems  the  impertinence  it  would  be  with  us. 

The  girl  she  ushered  in  was  more  than  pretty- 
she  was  beautiful;  slightly  above  medium  height, 
her  figure  was  perfectly  proportioned ;  her  hair  was 
black  with  an  inclination  to  waviness;  her  features 
were  regular,  and,  though  pale  and  a  little  sad  in  ex 
pression,  the  face  was  a  singularly  attractive  one. 
Her  skin  was  clear  and  creamy,  with  just  that  hint 
of  olive  which  makes  the  women  of  Spain  so  at 
tractive  to  us  Northern  people.  But  these  outlines 


PERSEPHONE  221 

tell  but  little;  there  was  inborn  grace  in  the  round 
girlish  form  which  was  clothed  in  a  cheap  gray  dress 
made  tight  and  plain.  A  scarlet  lily  of  the  swamps 
was  in  her  belt.  Her  hands — a  so-called  test  of 
blood — were  slender  and  white.  The  brown  eyes 
were  slumbrous  and  dreamy,  and  matched  the  voice, 
wrhich  said : 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting,  madam. 
I  was  outside  when  you  arrived,  as  Cassie  has  told 
you.  You  wish  to  see  me?" 

I  wras  half-ashamed  to  propose  to  this  queenly 
looking  creature  that  she  should  read  to  and  amuse 
me  in  return  for  a  salary.  I  was  afraid  of  making 
the  mistake  Jack  had  made  with  the  Southern 
gentleman.  But  finally  I  managed  to  tell  her. 

Her  face  brightened  for  a  moment,  and  then  fell. 

"I  should  like  to  go  very  much,  madam" — I 
noticed  she  did  not  say  "marm"  as  most  of  those 
people  do  there — "but  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  im 
possible." 

"Laws,  hon'i  Why  not?"  interrupted  the  offi 
cious  Cassie.  "  Yeh  kin  ef  yeh  oney  think  so.  I'll 
tend  to  the  place  yer  all  right.  It's  just  what  yeh 
need,  child.  Yeh  gitten  so  pale  and  peaked  this 
summer;  it'll  chirk  yeh  up  a  bit  to  go  whar  they's 
folks  fitten  fo  yeh  to  talk  to.  Jest  yeh  make  her 
go,  ole  miss.  It  'ud  brighten  her  up  powerful." 

"I  should  like  to  have  you,  Miss  Atkins,  if  you 
can  come,"  I  said,  fearing  that,  after  all,  my  ride 
down  the  mountain  was  to  be  in  vain.  "I  am  a 


222  PERSEPHONE 

stranger  in  your  America,  and  an  old  woman  who 
will  not  require  much  labor  from  you — only  to  read 
to  me  sometimes,  or  drive  me  over  these  mountain 
roads,  that  I  may  see  some  of  the  beauties  of  which 
my  nephew  tells  me.  And  I  wanted  someone  for 
a  companion  who  was  a  native  of  the  country,  and 
knew  the  hills." 

"Which  the  Lawd  knows  she  do,"  broke  in  Cassie, 
who  was  sitting  on  a  stool  near  the  door,  making  a 
grotesque  picture  in  a  blue  cotton  gown  and  a  red 
scarf  or  kerchief  about  her  hair,  which  made  a  glow 
ing  frame  for  her  shining  ebony  countenance. 
"She's  run  through  these  pine  woods  evah  sence 
she  was  big  enough  to  walk.  Reckon  I  ought  to 
know;  I've  nursed  her  an'  tended  her  sense  she  was 
a  little  pickaninny  that  high," — she  held  her  hand 
about  six  inches  from  the  floor — "an'  she  jest  lubs 
dem  mountains,  rain  or  shine,  a'most  as  much  as 
she  do  her  ole  mammy." 

The  girl  looked  at  her  with  a  great  kindness  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Not  quite  so  much,  Cassie,"  she  smiled.  "  Neither 
the  mountains  nor  anything  on  them  could  ever 
be  so  much  to  me  as  my  mammy." 

The  queer  black  creature's  face  fairly  shone  with 
delight.  She  dropped  from  the  stool  to  the  girl's 
side,  taking  the  white  hand  in  her  black  ones,  patting 
it,  and  rubbing  her  cheek  against  it  as  a  cat  does 
with  the  hand  it  loves,  while  she  murmered  broken, 
disjointed  pet  names,  such  as  "my  own  pickaninny," 


PERSEPHONE  223 

"my  chile,"  "my  honey."  I  really  have  never  seen 
anything  equal  to  the  slavish  adoration  expressed 
in  every  motion  and  glance  of  that  black  savage. 

"Cassie!  Cassie!"  said  the  girl  chidingly,  but  with 
love  in  her  voice,  "remember  we  are  not  alone.  If 
you  are  a  foreigner,  madam,"  she  said,  turning  to 
me,  "such  an  exhibition  of  affection  may  seem 
strange  to  your  eyes,  although  you  will  meet  it  often 
in  the  South.  Our  blood  has  not  the  chill  of  the 
Northern  winters  in  it." 

Someway  it  jarred  on  me  to  hear  her  say  "our 
blood"  in  speaking  of  a  slave's  weakness.  Of 
course  they  tell  me  the  blacks  are  not  slaves  now; 
but  they  have  been,  and  it  is  all  the  same. 

"  I  hope  you  will  consider  the  matter  and  promise 
to  come,"  I  said,  as  I  arose  to  go.  "I  will  endeavor 
to  have  a  pleasant  room  made  ready  for  you,  but 
it  will  not  be  the  picture  this  one  is ;  that  would  be 
impossible  in  our  bare  hotel.  And  as  to  salary,  I 
am  willing  to  pay  whatever  you  consider  sufficient 
for  your  time." 

"I  should  like  to  go,"  she  said.  "There  is  so 
little  one  can  do  here  when  school  is  over,  and  it 
pays  but  little.  The  change  would  be  very  welcome 
to  me,  more  so  than  I  can  tell  you,  and  I  am  too 
poor  to  refuse  a  chance  of  earning  the  money  you 
offer.  I  will  try  to  come." 

"Ef  yo'  had  yer  rights  yeh  wouldn't  need  to  take 
hire  from  none — 'deed  she  wouldn't,  miss,"  asserted 
Cassie. 

"Cassie!" 


224  PERSEPHONE 

The  girl's  voice  was  not  raised  higher  than  before, 
but  the  woman  seemed  to  recognize  in  it  the  mis 
tress  instead  of  the  pickaninny,  for  she  said  humbly : 

"I  axes  yer  pardon,  Miss  Perse,  'deed  I  does." 

"If  I  find  I  can  go  I  will  send  Cassie  to  tell  you 
this  evening,  Miss  Henderson,"  said  the  girl  as  she 
walked  to  the  very  rickety  equipage  and  assisted 
me  into  it.  The  driver  lay  under  a  tree  nearby, 
and  saw  me  comfortably  settled  in  the  carriage 
before  he  moved  toward  it. 

"Try  to  come,  my  dear,"  I  said  as  he  gathered 
up  the  reins.  "I  like  fresh  young  faces  about  me, 
and  yours  would  charm  away  much  dreariness 
from  our  rooms  on  the  hill." 

The  driver  yelled  at  the  horses  and  cracked  his 
whip  so  that  I  could  not  hear  her  answer,  but  she 
smiled  and  waved  her  hand  to  me,  and  when  we 
reached  a  point  far  above  from  where  I  could  again 
get  a  glimpse  of  the  house,  I  saw  her  still  standing 
there,  her  hands  clasped  behind  her  head,  looking 
up  as  heedless  as  a  young  eagle  of  the  heat  and  glare 
of  the  sun  in  her  eyes. 

That  evening  Cassie  came  carrying  a  basket  of 
flowers  covered  with  cool  wet  leaves  -"With  Miss 
Perse's  compliments,  an'  she'll  come,"  she  said 
exultantly,  "an*  I  tell  you  I'm  mighty  glad  of  it." 

"So  am  I,  my  good  woman,"  I  answered,  as  I 
lifted  off  the  leaves  and  found  under  them  the  fra 
grant  lavender  of  heliotrope,  and  pink  of  sweet 
brier,  and  great,  velvety,  yellow  roses  on  a  bed  of 
wet  moss. 


PERSEPHONE  225 

'Oh,  if  Jack  were  only  here  to  see  this  before  it 
fades,"  I  said  involuntarily. 

"I'll  bring  them  up  every  day,  seein'  yer  so  fond 
of  'em,"  said  the  woman;  "reckon  I'll  have  to  any 
way.  This  place  looks  mighty  bar'  like.  Miss 
Perse  '11  miss  her  garden  a  heap  up  here.  Reckon 
I'd  better  bring  em  up  every  mawnen?" 

While  the  woman  waited  I  interviewed  our  land 
lady  about  an  extra  room. 

"  Who  fer?"  she  asked. 

"For  my  companion,  Miss  Atkins." 

"We  hain't  got  no  rooms  to  spar,"  was  the  curt 
answer. 

"Then  my  nephew  must  see  about  getting  rooms 
for  us  somewhere  else,"  I  said  quietly.  This  answer 
seemed  to  change  her  mind. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "I'll  see  what  we  can  do.  I'll 
speak  to  him  about  it."  Directly  she  came  back. 
"He  says  you'ens  can  hev  the  west  room  off  en  the 
porch  thar,  either  fer  the  young  man's  fixens  er  fer 
Miss  Atkins." 

Pen  can  not  describe  the  superciliousness  in  her 
voice  as  she  spoke  the  girl's  name.  Cassie  must 
have  heard  it,  for  she  hesitated  about  going,  even 
after  she  had  said  good-by,  and  finally  she  said: 

"I  don't  like  to  'pear  noways  'ficious,  case  Miss 
Perse  wouldn't  like  it  nohow ;  but  if  these  yer  yaller- 
headed  white  trash  try  to  make  my  little  missie 
mis'able  while  she's  yer,  I  hope  yeh'll  either  sot 
down  on  'em  or  else  send  her  home.  Ef  she  had 
her  rights  they'd  be  taking  off  their  hats  to  her,  an' 

15 


226  PERSEPHONE 

see'n's  she  haint,  they  try  to  make  it  hard  for  the 
child  to  make  a  decent  liven  among  'em.  I  hope 
yeh'll  excuse  me  fer  speakin.  I  jest  couldn't  help 
it,  even  if  Miss  Perse  is  mad.  She  don't  never  like 
no  one  to  mention  her  rights  er  wrongs." 

"She  shall  hear  nothing  of  them  here,  I  promise 
you,"  I  said,  touched  by  the  creature's  devotion. 

"Thank  you  kindly  fer  that  promise,"  she  said 
earnestly ; '  'and  may  the  Good  Man  bless  yeh  if  yeh 
help  her  to  be  a  little  happy." 

She  was  really  the  most  extraordinary  creature. 
I  was  always  afraid  to  speak  kindly  to  her,  for  fear 
of  one  of  the  outbreaks  I  had  witnessed  in  the  little 
house  among  the  pines ;  but  she  never  inflicted  them 
on  me,  for  which  I  was  thankful. 

Jack  was  pleased  when  he  came  home  in  the  eve 
ning,  and  learned  that  I  had  been  successful ;  but  he 
laughed  at  my  decided  admiration  for  Percy.  I 
told  him  of  the  girl's  home,  our  conversation,  and 
our  landlady's  evident  dislike  of  her. 

"Jealousy,  auntie;  that  is  it,"  he  said.  "She 
doesn't  like  it,  because  you  were  not  satisfied  with 
her  lanky  daughters  of  the  leathery  complexions  and 
black  teeth.  I  wondered  at  that  general  style  of 
beauty  through  here,  until  I  became  acquainted 
with  their  steady  diet  of  salt  pork,  corn  bread,  and 
black  coffee.  Then  I  wondered  no  more;  but,  as 
long  as  we  can  get  fried  chicken,  flaky  biscuits, 
and  clear  honey  from  them,  I  won't  quarrel  with 
our  Carolina  fare,  especially  since  noting  the  benefit 


PERSEPHONE  227 

this  balsam-laden  air  has  been  to  your  lungs.  And 
if  your  paragon  comes  to-morrow  to  keep  you  com 
pany,  I  am  going  up  on  Old  Balsam  for  a  day  or  two. 
I  have  a  guide  who  will  go  for  twenty-five  cents  a 
day  and  carry  his  own  bacon." 

"Bacon?" 

"Provisions.  The  man  said  'bacon,'  but  I  sup 
pose  he  will  have  something  besides  that." 

I  tried  to  persuade  him  not  to  go ;  or,  at  any  rate, 
not  to  sleep  out  on  the  hills.  I  was  so  horribly 
afraid  of  him  being  snake-bitten.  You  see,  in  all 
the  accounts  I  had  ever  read  of  the  southern  part 
of  the  United  States,  serpent  stories  bore  a  promi 
nent  part.  In  fact,  the  numerous  stories  of  those 
terrible  objects  which  reach  us  through  the  American 
papers  have  always  been  a  source  of  wonder  and 
terror  to  me.  But  Jack  laughed  at  the  remembered 
horrors  which  I  recounted. 

"There  is  no  danger,  auntie,"  he  said.  "They 
tell  me  neither  copperhead  nor  rattlesnake  is  seen 
among  the  balsam  woods.  The  snakes  won't  go 
higher  than  four  thousand  feet,  and  the  balsams 
don't  commence  below  that  altitude,  so  I  am  safe. 
Besides,  they  say  there  are  men  who  live  up  on  those 
heights,  and  do  not  come  down  or  see  the  face  of  a 
human  being  for  months  at  a  time.  I  am  anxious 
to  see  how  they  live." 

"At  what  can  they  work  on  those  heights?"  I 
asked. 

"Some  of  them  are  charcoal-burners,  others  work 
the  scattered  mica  mines,  while  others  live  still 


228  PERSEPHONE 

higher  up  the  mountains,  and  have  kilns,  where 
they  gather  and  clarify  the  pitch  which  they  collect 
at  certain  seasons  from  the  balsam.  It  must  be  a 
terrible  life,  buried  in  that  blackness  which  seems 
to  lie  over  those  hills  like  a  pall." 

"Jack,  dear,"  I  said,  as  he  was  gathering  up  his 
painting  materials  to  move  into  the  west  room. 
"Jack,  is  it  customary  among  these  people  for  pen 
niless  working  girls  to  keep  their  own  servants?  I 
never  have  seen  it  anywhere  else ;  but  this  girl  told 
me  plainly  that  she  was  too  poor  to  lose  a  chance 
of  earning  money;  yet  she  keeps  her  little  home, 
and  at  least  one  servant." 

"Who,  no  doubt,  asks  no  wages,  and  does  out 
side  work  besides,  rather  than  see  a  member  of  a 
former  master's  family  in  poverty,  or  in  need  of  a 
slave's  service.  You  see  many  such  cases  of  de 
votion  among  those  negroes,  strange  as  it  may  seem 
to  us.  Say,  auntie,  where  had  I  better  put  this? 
I  wish  I  had  left  it  behind.  I  have  lost  interest  in  it." 

The  thing  referred  to  was  a  three-quarter  figure  of 
Persephone,  in  a  half -finished  condition. 

"I  am  sorry  for  that,  Jack,"  I  said.  "I  know 
how  hopeful  you  have  been  of  that  subject." 

"So  I  was.  I  never  did  have  anything  take  such 
a  hold  on  my  mind  as  my  conception  of  Persephone. 
I  studied  over  it,  dreamed  over  it,  and  had  hopes  of 
it  in  some  way  making  a  marker  for  me ;  but  with 
three  models  I  have  tried  and  failed  to  accomplish 
what  I  want.  I  can't  get  the  spirit  of  the  thing. 


PERSEPHONE  229 

It  falls  flat.  Sometime  I  may  find  the  face  I  want. 
Until  then  I  shall  not  touch  it,  though  the  thing 
haunts  me  in  some  way,  or  I  would  not  have  carted 
it  over  here.  Oh,  for  such  luck  as  Thorneycroft's ! 
Haven't  you  heard  the  story  of  his  Artemis,  auntie— 
that  perfect  figure  with  the  deerhound  close  beside? 
Well,  the  sculptor  had  got  to  that  part  of  his  work 
where  he  required  a  hound  for  a  model.  That  day 
a  beautiful  deerhound  came  to  his  door,  and  utterly 
refused  to  leave.  It  was  exactly  what  he  wanted, 
so  he  used  it  as  a  model,  and  made  inquiries  about 
its  owner.  None  could  be  discovered,  and  on  the 
night  of  the  day  the  model  was  finished  it  died. 
Now,  what  more  reasonable  than  to  suppose  that 
the  goddess  sent  a  spirit  in  the  shape  of  the  hound 
to  serve  that  purpose,  and  recalled  it  when  the  model 
was  finished  to  her  satisfaction.  Why  can't  the 
gods  favor  us  equally,  and  send  me  a  model  as  well?" 

"For  mercy's  sake,  Jack,"  I  said,  "don't  talk 
such  heathenish  nonsense." 

"Is  it  heathenish?  Well,  let  us  hope  that  some 
day  my  model  will  come  to  me,  even  if  from  hea 
thendom  ;  or  perhaps  I  shall  find  her  among  the 
snuff -chewers  of  these  mountains."  And  he  went 
out  laughing  at  the  idea. 

At  once  the  thought  came  to  my  mind  of  the  girl 
down  among  the  pines.  There  was  the  somber 
light  of  hopelessness  in  her  eyes,  except  when  she 
smiled;  and  surely  there  was  beauty,  grace,  and 
pride  enough  in  her  face  and  form  to  make  her  an 
artist's  model  for  the  Queen  of  Hades! 


230  PERSEPHONE 

In  my  quiet  way  I  was  elated.  Perhaps  I  had 
at  last  found  what  he  wanted.  But  I  said  nothing. 
I  remembered  a  former  occasion  when  I  thought  I 
had  found  him  a  Hebe,  and  was  in  ecstasies  over 
her  pink  and  white  prettiness,  when  Jack  cooled 
my  ardor  by  telling  me  she  was  "beefy" — a  hor 
rible  expression ;  the  young  men  have  so  many  now 
adays — and  I  vowed  then  never  to  hunt  for  models 
again.  So  I  kept  quiet,  and  bided  my  time. 

In  the  morning  I  got  Jack  to  send  Hugh,  our 
landlord's  son  and  man-of -all-work,  after  Miss 
Atkins.  There  was  a  little  demur  on  Hugh's  part. 
I  heard  him  over  the  veranda,  growling  to  his 
mother  through  the  kitchen  window. 

"  Blamed  ef  I'me  agoin'  to  wait  on  her,  an'  drive 
her  'round .  Why  don 't  you  tell  her  ? ' ' 

"I  don't  allow  to  do  no  such  a  thing!"  It  was 
Mrs.  Snodgrass'  high-pitched  voice.  "She  comes 
here  with  her  hifalutin  idees,  and  thinks  plain-spoken 
white  folks  ain  't  fitten  for  'em  to  talk  to.  So  jest  let 
her  find  her  company  whar  she  pleases.  She 's  wel 
come  to,  fer  all  o '  me.  I  don 't  allow  to  give  no  ad 
vice,  and  don 't  any  of  you  'ens  dar  to — you  hear  me ! 
Hugh,  you  go  and  hitch  up  them  creeturs  this  minute. 
Alviny,  go  an '  kill  one  o '  them  Dominakys  fer  dinner. 
Reckon  yeh'd  better  kill  two;  that  young  painter 
chap  eats  right  smart.  It 's  mighty  little  we  'd  make 
off  them  if  it  wasn't  for  the  lot  of  rooms  they  pay 
fer." 

I  did  not  exactly  understand  the  remarks  I  over 
heard,  and  did  not  exactly  care  to.  Miss  Atkins 


PERSEPHONE  231 

was  intelligent,  and  would  suit  me  as  a  companion. 
She  was  beautiful,  and  might  be  what  Jack  wanted 
as  a  model.  She  was  evidently  a  lady,  and  I  was 
inclined  to  think  with  Jack,  that  Mrs.  Snodgrass' 
dislike  to  her  arose  from  jealousy. 

"  I  am  going  around  the  point  there  to  see  if  I  can 
get  some  fish  in  the  pools  of  that  mountain  stream, " 
said  Jack,  as  the  lumbering  carriage  creaked  down 
the  hill.  "  I  shall  be  back  in  time  for  dinner,  and 
suppose  I  shall  find  your  newly  discovered  treasure 
in  complete  possession  of  you.  Don't  fall  in  love 
with  her  and  forget  me !  Good-by. " 

He  waved  his  hat  to  me  from  the  road  when  he  saw 
me  watching  him  through  the  window.  He  seemed 
so  full  of  the  happiness  of  youth  and  strength  that  it 
did  my  old  eyes  good  to  look  at  him.  In  my  opinion 
he  is  handsomer  than  any  of  the  pictures  he  paints — 
with  his  six  feet  one,  his  straightforward,  level-look 
ing  blue  eyes,  and  his  catching  smile.  I  sat  there, 
watching  him,  thinking  how  good  it  is  to  have  youth 
and  know  its  worth,  as  Jack  seemed  to  do,  for  often 
when.  I  have  scolded  him  for  working  too  hard  he  has 
said :  "  It  is  now  or  never,  auntie.  If  I  don 't  make  a 
marker  for  myself  while  I  am  young  the  chances  are 
that  I  never  shall.  I  see  so  many  lose  ambition  as 
they  find  the  years  gaining  on  them. " 

I  was  thinking  of  this  as  my  eyes  rested  on  his  tall 
figure  swinging  down  the  road. 

"Yeh'd  better  not  do  that!"  said  a  voice  at  my 
elbow.  I  turned  with  a  start.  Behind  me  was  the 
bilious-looking  girl,  Alviny,  with  some  towels. 


232  PERSEPHONE 

"Better  not  do  what?"  I  asked  sharply. 

"  Yeh  'd  better  not  watch  him  out  o '  sight.  It 's  a 
sartin  hoodoo." 

' '  A  what  ? "  I  asked.  I  actually  began  to  think  the 
girl  was  insane.  She  always  made  me  nervous,  with 
her  vacant  yellow  face  and  monotonous  voice,  in 
which  there  was  never  heard  a  varying  note. 

"A  hoodoo — bad  luck,  yeh  know.  Ole  black 
Marm  Hepsey  says  it 's  a  sartin  hoodoo  to  watch  any 
one  out  o'  sight.  They  don't  never  come  back  the 
same. " 

"For  mercy's  sake  don't  talk  such  superstitious 
nonsense, "  I  snapped.  "  Hoodoo,  indeed ! " 

"I've  heerd  more  folks  an'  you  make  light  o'  the 
same  thing,  but  they  never  gained  much  luck  from  it, 
as  ever  I  see." 

"  There,  that  will  do.  You  can  leave  the  towels, " 
I  said,  and  felt  relieved  when  she  sidled  out  of  the 
room. 

Cassie  came  with  my  new  companion,  carrying  her 
little  wardrobe,  which  I  noticed  was  of  the  cheapest, 
and  insisted  on  "  Miss  Perse  "  allowing  her  to  arrange 
the  things  on  their  pegs  in  the  little  bedroom. 

"Jess  yo'  sot  still,  chile,"  she  commanded,  "an* 
lem  me  'lone.  I  reckon  yeh '11  have  to  wait  on  yer- 
self  an '  ole  miss,  too,  while  you 's  heah — but  not  till  I 

go." 

The  girl  wore  a  plain,  tight -fitting  dress  of  reddish 

delaine.  On  anyone  else  it  would  have  been  hideous. 
On  her  it  was  just  the  thing  I  should  want  Jack  to  see 
her  in.  It  looked  like  dull-red  flame  with  the  girl's 


PERSEPHONE  233 

dark  face  above  it  — the  best  possible  thing  for  Perse 
phone. 

"  That  will  do,  Cassie, "  she  said  to  the  woman,  who 
was  smoothing  out  the  poor  dresses  and  spending  all 
the  time  possible  on  her  duties.  "You  had  better 
go  now.  Be  careful  of  the  garden,  and  attend  to  the 
young  chickens.  I  hope  you  will  not  be  very  lonely. " 

"  Lor '  bless  yeh,  honey,  I  '11  have  too  much  to  do  to 
be  lonesome,  an '  111  tend  to  them  thar  chickens  same 
as  yo  'self.  An ' — an ' — I  can  come  up  sometimes  to 
see  yeh,  I  reckon,  an'  bring  ye  flowers,  er  anything 
yeh  may  want?" 

The  girl  looked  at  me  questioningly. 

"Certainly,"  I  said.  "No  doubt  your  mistress 
will  need  to  see  you  often  about  her  household 
affairs." 

"Thank  yo'  kindly,  miss.  You's  mighty  co'sid- 
erate  like ;  an '  it  seems  hard  fer  her  old  mammy  to 
leave  her  fer  long  at  a  time.  This  night  '11  be  the 
fust  since  she  was  bawn  that  she  evah  slep'  'thout 
me  aside  her  bed.  But  we'll  have  to  get  used  to  it 
sometime.  I  spect  the  time  is  a-comin'  when  we 
can't  alles  be  together.  Good-day  to  you,  miss. 
Good-by  chile;  good-by,  honey!  The  Good  Man 
bless  yeh  an'  keep  yeh  safe  fer  yer  ole  mammy." 

The  girl  stooped  and  kissed  the  black  cheek  in 
good-by,  as  she  said : 

"As  long  as  I  live  I  will  want  you  near  me,  Cassie. 
No  other  will  love  me  so  well. " 

She  threw  a  kiss  to  the  woman  as  she  passed  under 
the  window,  but  she  did  not  watch  her  out  of  sight. 


234  PERSEPHONE 

I  wondered  if  she  had  heard  of  "  hoodooing. "  I  be 
gan  to  wish  Jack  would  return.  That  corpse-like 
girl  had  said  people  never  came  back  the  same.  I 
actually  began  to  be  anxious  for  him  to  reappear. 

The  girl  arranged  flowers  she  had  brought  in  gob 
lets  and  a  large  water-pitcher.  In  some  way  her 
very  presence  seemed  to  add  charm  to  those  bare 
rooms  as  she  moved  about. 

Looking  over  some  books  I  had  brought,  among 
which  were  some  late  magazines,  she  turned  to  me 
smiling : 

"Have  you  any  idea,  Miss  Henderson,  what  a 
world-forgotten  nook  you  have  come  to  for  your 
summer?  This  is  the  first  magazine  I  have  seen 
within  five  years.  I  can  not  afford  to  subscribe  for 
them,  and  I  know  no  person  in  this  neighborhood 
who  reads  anything  beyond  an  old  newspaper  now 
and  again. ' ' 

"  I  am  glad,  then,  to  be  able  to  give  you  a  treat, ' ' 
I  answered,  "as  Jack  has  quite  a  number  with  him, 
and  will  get  more." 

"Jack?" 

"My  nephew,  Jack  Hilyard.  I  expect  him  back 
soon  to  dinner,  and  in  the  meantime,  Miss  Atkins, 
will  you  not  read  a  little  to  me?  Make  your  own 
selections. ' ' 

' '  Miss  Henderson, ' '  the  girl  said,  looking  not  at 
me,  but  across  me,  ' '  if  you  had  brought  a  maid  with 
you,  what  would  you  have  called  her  if  her  name 
had  been  Ellen  Smith?" 

"What  a  question?     Ellen,  I  suppose.     Why?" 


PERSEPHONE  235 

"  Because  I  would  rather  have  you  consider  me 
the  same,  and  call  me  by  my  first  name.  I  am  sel 
dom  called  Miss  Atkins,  and  much  prefer  the  other. 
Besides,  it  seems  best  so. ' ' 

"Just  as  you  please,  my  dear,"  I  said.  "I  am 
sure  I  shall  be  glad  to  call  you  Percy.  It  has  a  mas 
culine  sound.  Is  it  a  family  name?  I  used  to  know 
Percys." 

"No,"  she  said,  raising  the  blind  a  little  to  let 
in  more  light  for  her  reading.  "It  is  merely  short 
for —  What  a  strange  picture!" 

Raising  the  blind  had  let  in  a  flood  of  light  to  the 
corner  where  Jack  had  set  the  easel  with  his  Queen 
of  Hades.  As  the  girl  turned,  it  was  facing  her,  and 
then  I  understood  what  Jack  meant  when  he  said 
it  was  "flat." 

The  picture  face  looked  sullen  by  contrast  with 
the  human  one  opposite  it.  She  was  standing  half- 
turned  from  the  window,  her  hand  still  on  the  cur 
tain,  with  her  face  half  in  light,  half  in  shadow.  A 
ray  of  sunlight  glimmered  through  the  folds  and  lay 
blood-red  over  her  arm  and  shoulder.  She  stood 
gazing  at  the  painting,  her  brown  eyes  changing  as 
she  seemed  to  dimly  understand  the  subject.  I  sat 
watching  the  picture  she  made  with  the  light  and 
the  shadow  about  her.  She  drew  a  long  breath  and 
asked:  "What  is  it?" 

"A  painting  by  my  nephew  on  a  mythological 
subject — Persephone. ' ' 

"Persephone!"  she  echoed.  "I  thought  that 
must  be  it.  That  is  my  name." 


236  PERSEPHONE 

"Persephone!" 

But  this  time  it  was  Jack's  voice  in  the  doorway. 
I  turned  and  saw  that  he,  too,  had  been  watching 
the  living  Persephone.  He  crossed  the  room  with 
quick  strides,  passing  my  chair  as  if  he  did  not  see 
me,  and  stood  beside  her. 

"I  have  found  you  at  last,"   he  said  eagerly. 

"Persephone!" 

"Jack!"  I  cried. 

The  girl  stood  quite  still,  her  head  thrown  back 
in  a  startled  way,  her  eyes  on  his,  while  her  face 
grew  white.  At  that  moment  I  had  faith  in  hoodoo- 
ism.  Assuredly,  Jack  had  come  back  not  the  same. 

"For  mercy's  sake,  Jack!"  I  repeated. 

Then  he  seemed  to  remember  proprieties. 

"How  unpardonable  of  me,"  he  said,  half  laugh 
ing.  "I  beg  you  will  forgive  me,  though  I  fear  I 
can  scarcely  explain  to  your  satisfaction  the  cause 
of  my  rudeness.  Auntie,  you  must  help  me." 

"I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  I  said  crossly. 
"Such  rudeness  is  inexcusable.  Percy,  child,  come 
here  to  me.  Don't  look  so  frightened." 

She  came  and  sat  on  a  low  chair  beside  me. 

"I  am  not  frightened,"  she  said. 

Her  hand  lay  on  the  arm  of  my  chair.  I  touched 
it  with  mine.  It  was  icy  cold. 

"Not  frightened,"  I  said,  "and  your  hands  cold 
and  trembling.  Jack,  until  you  avow  yourself 
thoroughly  ashamed  and  promise  never  again  to 
so  far  forget  yourself,  I  shall  refuse  to  introduce 
you." 


PERSEPHONE  237 

"  I  am  very  penitent,  and  will  promise  anything, " 
he  said,  stooping  to  kiss  my  hand  in  mock  contrition. 
My  hand  held  hers.  He  must  have  touched  it,  for 
she  drew  it  away  half  shyly. 

"Percy,"  I  said,  "this  is  my  nephew,  Jack  Hil- 
yard,  whose  eccentric,  impulsive  manner  just  now 
I  hope  you  will  try  to  overlook.  Jack,  this  is  Miss 
Atkins,  who  is  to  remain  with  me  during  my  stay. " 

"And  for  whom  I  shall  try  to  redeem  the  bad 
impression  I  have  evidently  made, "  he  said.  "  Will 
you  not  shake  hands,  Miss  Atkins,  and  begin  our 
acquaintance  by  trying  to  forgive  me?" 

She  arose  and  reached  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  pardon, "  she  said  with 
stately  courtesy,  her  solemn  brown  eyes  looking  at 
him  levelly,  with  no  trace  of  consciousness  or 
coquetry  in  her  manner,  for  which  I  was  thankful; 
for,  under  the  circumstances,  a  vain  girl,  or  a  de 
signing  one,  might  have  taken  advantage  of  such 
a  strange  entrance  as  Jack's.  I  was  glad  to  see  my 
opinion  that  she  was  a  lady,  indorsed  by  her  man 
ner.  A  little  later  Alviny  came  to  tell  us  dinner 
was  ready. 

"Come,"  I  said  to  her,  as  Jack  went  to  change 
his  coat. 

"With  you?"  she  asked.  "I  had  better  wait, 
had  I  not?  To  you  I  am  only  a  servant." 

"Nonsense,"  I  said.  "You  are  my  companion, 
and  I  will  not  have  you  get  such  ideas  into  your 
head.  I  am  no  grand  lady,  but  a  very  plain,  un 
assuming  old  woman,  who  looks  after  her  own  house- 


238  PERSEPHONE 

keeping  when  at  home.  But  Jack  lets  me  remain 
there  so  little  -lately  that  I  am  growing  quite  a 
stranger  to  King's  Lynn,  and  am  getting  to  be 
almost  as  much  of  a  vagabond  as  himself.  Not 
another  word  about  your  station  as  a  servant. 
Come  along. " 

And  so  began  our  acquaintance  with  Persephone, 
for  that  was  what  we  grew  to  call  her.  Before  her 
first  week  with  us  was  over  Jack  had  broached 
the  subject  of  her  sitting  as  his  model. 

"Are  you  willing?"  she  asked  me. 

"  It  is  what  I  most  wish  for,  my  dear,"  I  said.  "  If 
you  consent  I  am  sure  he  can  accomplish  what  he 
has  hitherto  tried  in  vain." 

"You  think  he  cannot  do  it  without  me?" 

"  I  do  not  think  he  can  do  it  so  well  without  you. 
When  he  first  saw  you  he  recognized  his  ideal  of 
Persephone.  You  remember?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  I  remember,"  she  said,  "and  I  will  be 
glad  to  be  of  use  to  him.  I  think  I  understand 
now  why  I  was  called  Persephone." 

It  was  certainly  a  strange  remark  to  make,  but 
the  girl  herself  seemed  strange  to  me  at  times. 
She  became  so  necessary  that  I  wondered  how  I 
had  ever  managed  to  do  without  her.  She  read 
in  her  soft,  melodious  voice ;  she  drove  me  over  the 
hills,  every  shady  nook  of  which  she  seemed  to 
know,  every  spring  where  the  water  was  clearest 
and  coolest,  every  call  of  the  birds  or  haunt  of  the 
squirrels,  which  we  would  startle  with  the  creak  of 


PERSEPHONE  239 

our  carriage.  More  than  once  we  stopped  at  the 
little  house  among  the  pines.  At  such  times  the 
delighted  Cassie  always  had  some  johnny-cake  and 
honey,  or  corn-bread  and  sweet  butter  and  milk 
to  offer  us,  and  would  fill  our  arms  with  flowers, 
of  which  there  was  a  profusion. 

"They  take  up  but  little  room,"  Persephone  ex 
plained  one  day,  as  we  returned  to  the  carriage 
laden  with  sweet-smelling  blossoms,  "and  we 
have  garden  enough  left  to  raise  all  we  can  find 
market  for  here ;  and  even  for  that  and  our  chickens 
we  have  to  take  flour,  meat,  and  such  things.  It 
is  seldom  that  we  get  any  money  for  them  unless 
Cassie  takes  them  to  Wayneville;  but  it  is  too  far 
to  send  her  there  often." 

"  It  is  a  dismal  life  for  you, "  I  said.  I  had  always 
avoided  speaking  of  her  life,  feeling,  from  Cassie's 
words,  that  it  might  be  unpleasant  for  her. 

"  It  was  not  so  until  my  mother  died,  four  years 
ago.  Since  then  it  has  seemed  dreary,  often." 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  heard  her  mention 
her  mother. 

"  You  are,  no  doubt,  much  attached  to  the  place, " 
I  said.  "  People  generally  are  to  their  birthplace. " 

"But  this  is  not  the  place  of  my  birth,"  she 
answered.  "I  was  born  in  Sicily." 

"How  strange  to  find  a  Sicilian-born  creature 
in  these  wilds.  But  you  are  not  Sicilian?"  I  asked. 

"I?  Oh,  no.  My  parents  were  traveling  in 
Europe,  and  by  a  series  of  unforeseen  delays  they 


24o  PERSEPHONE 

were  compelled  to  remain  some  time  in  Sicily.  While 
there  I  was  born,  near  the  spot  where  mythology 
tells  us  Persephone  was  seized  and  carried  to  Hades 
by  her  dark  lover.  The  story  told  to  my  mother, 
amid  those  peculiar  surroundings,  made  a  decided 
impression  on  her  mind,  so  much  so  that  it  influenced 
her  choice  of  my  name.  But  my  stay  in  Sicily  was 
short,  as  we  returned  here  to  Carolina  almost  im 
mediately  after  my  birth." 

I  rode  home  in  silence.  I  never  was  super 
stitious,  but  a  decidedly  uncanny  felling  had  taken 
possession  of  me.  Could  such  a  condition  of  affairs 
be  merely  a  coincidence,  or  was  it  a  case  similar  to 
that  of  the  deerhound  that  came  to  Thorneycrof t  ? 
Would  she  disappear  when  the  picture  was  finished  ? 
Had  the  goddess  sent  her?  These,  and  a  dozen 
other  conjectures,  had  taken  possession  of  my  fool 
ish  old  head,  put  there  by  Jack's  wild  vagaries.  I 
longed  to  continue  the  conversation,  but  the  girl's 
manner  did  not  invite  further  inquiry.  She  sat 
silent,  gazing  over  the  precipice  above  which  we 
were  driving,  down  to  the  roof  of  her  little  house, 
discernible  among  the  trees.  She  had  lost  much  of 
her  sad  expression  after  coming  to  me.  There  was 
more  color  in  her  face.  Her  eyes  were  less  somber, 
and  she  had  in  some  way  lost  much  of  her  still, 
stately  repose,  and  at  times  was  restless  and  change 
ful  in  her  moods,  but  always  charming  to  me. 

I  don't  know  what  she  was  to  Jack  in  those  days. 
Sometimes  I  thought  she  was  merely  an  odd  type 


PERSEPHONE  241 

of  woman  that  he  was  fond  of  studying  in  his  careless, 
philosophical  way — just  as  he  would  have  done  had 
he  been  a  physician  and  she  a  subject  calling  for 
delicate,  intricate  analysis.  He  had  known  many 
handsome  girls,  but,  outside  his  art,  that  was  the 
only  interest  I  ever  knew  one  to  awaken  in  him. 

I  say  sometimes  I  thought  that — and  then 
again  I  don't  know. 

He  would  tell  her  tales  of  our  foreign  journeys, 
and  watch  with  amusement  her  expressive  face 
portraying  her  sympathy,  her  wonder,  her  delight, 
at  the  many  incidents  of  travel,  risk  of  adventure, 
or  description  of  old-world  beauties.  He  laughed 
at  her  for  the  intense  interest  she  would  show  at 
the  slightest  thing  he  told  her.  He  remarked  to 
me  once  that  she  seemed  like  one  whose  mind  had 
been  closed  to  all  knowledge  of  the  world,  so  eager 
was  her  desire  for  learning  in  all  things.  He  would 
listen  to  the  mournful  negro  songs  she  sang  some 
times  in  the  evenings,  with  her  guitar  as  accom 
paniment,  and  sketch  her  in  innumerable  attitudes, 
besides  the  Persephone  he  had  commenced  of  her. 
He  spent  most  of  his  time  in  his  room,  working. 
The  sketches  of  mountain  scenery  he  had  come  for 
were  neglected. 

"You  might  as  well  have  returned  to  King's 
Lynn,"  I  said,  half -vexed  with  him  for  dragging 
me  among  those  hills  to  rough  it,  when  he  could 
have  had  so  many  more  conveniences  in  our  little 
English  home — the  house  Betty  and  I  were  born  in. 


242  PERSEPHONE 

"You  forget  m>y  Persephone,  auntie,'  he  said. 
"  I  would  never  have  found  her  in  King's  Lynn. 
I  think  fate  sent  us  here." 

And  sometimes  I  think  it  did. 

"  But  don't  call  her  your  Persephone,"  I  said ; 
"she  might  hear  you." 

"Well,  she  is  mine,  is  she  not? — or,  rather,  ours? 
You  and  I  discovered  her.  She  has  been  resur 
rected  for  my  picture,  and  I  claim  her, "  he  said, 
stepping  back  to  get  a  better  view  of  the  drapery 
he  was  touching  up.  He  was  thinking  only  of  his 
work.  To  him  she  was  his  Persephone,  that  was 
all — never  a  woman.  He  irritated  me  sometimes 
with  that  sort  of  carelessness,  and  just  then,  espe 
cially,  for  through  the  open  window  I  saw  the  girl's 
gray  dress  on  the  veranda  without,  and  feared  she 
had  heard  him. 

"For  mercy's  sake,  Jack,"  I  said,  "if  you  forget 
everything  else,  try  and  remember  that  Persephone 
ate  the  pomegranate  and  returns  whence  she  came 
when  the  leaves  fall. " 

"But  my  picture  will  be  finished  then,"  he 
said,  and  laughed  a  little  at  my  earnestness. 

Another  laugh  followed  his — a  low,  mirthless 
one — as  the  girl  stepped  through  the  low  window. 

"Whence  she  came,  Miss  Henderson!"  she  re 
peated;  "that  was  Hades,  was  it  not?  But  that 
does  not  matter,  so  long  as  the  picture  is  finished. 
I  am  ready  now,  Mr.  Hilyard,  for  the  sitting. " 

Her  face  was  a  little  pale,  her  voice  a  little  metallic, 
and  her  lips  were  drawn  closely  together.  I  saw 


PERSEPHONE  243 

that  she  had  heard.  Jack,  the  stupid,  saw  nothing 
as  he  placed  her  to  his  liking,  except  that  her  face 
was  what  he  wanted. 

"So!"  he  said,  looking  at  her  critically;  "that  is 
it.  The  expression  is  what  I  have  been  trying  to 
get.  It  is  perfect."  He  went  on  working  hastily 
while  he  talked.  "  There  is  in  your  eyes  just  that 
subtle  sadness  of  the  goddess,  casting  secret  glances 
into  the  shadows  to  which  she  must  return.  Is  it 
an  inspiration,  Miss  Atkins?  You  must  have  been 
reading  up  Persephone." 

"I  do  not  need  to  read  it,"  she  said;  "I  know 
it." 

"Of  course,  everyone  knows  it,"  he  answered, 
"but  few  can  look  it  as  you  do.  In  two  weeks  we 
are  to  return  to  England,  and  I  hope  to  carry  it 
with  me  completed." 

"You  go  so  soon?"  she  asked  me. 

"So  he  says,  my  dear,"  I  answered.  "He  always 
carries  me  with  him,  when  and  where  he  will.  He 
brought  me  here  against  my  will,  and  I  suppose 
intends  to  take  me  away  in  the  same  fashion. 
Of  course  the  fried  chicken  and  johnny-cake  are 
getting  monotonous,  but  you  have  helped  to  make 
my  days  so  pleasant  I  shall  be  sorry  to  leave 
you." 

She  stooped  and  kissed  my  hand  with  a  caressing 
movement,  and  then  looked  at  Jack.  Did  she  ex 
pect  him  also  to  express  regret  ?  He  did  not  seem 
to  notice. 


244  PERSEPHONE 

Cassie  came  while  he  was  still  working.  She 
brought  a  great  bunch  of  purple  passion  flowers, 
and  some  starry  jasmine,  which  she  insisted  on 
arranging  in  the  girl's  dark  hair. 

"Cassie  has  no  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things," 
she  said  to  me.  "The  idea  of  Persephone  crowned 
with  jasmine." 

Jack  turned  and  looked  at  her. 

"  Your  woman  has  good  taste, "  he  said  carelessly ; 
"you  will  please  stand  here  again  for  a  moment?  I 
want  your  hand  clasping  the  drapery — so,  but  per 
haps  you  are  tired." 

"Am  I  ever  tired?" 

That  was  all  she  said,  but  I  saw  the  negro  woman 
look  up  quickly  and  watch  the  girl  in  a  strange, 
questioning  way.  Then  I  remembered  this  was 
the  first  time  Cassie  had  ever  happened  to  come  in 
when  she  was  standing  as  his  model.  Perhaps,  I 
thought,  she  does  not  approve.  She  said  nothing; 
only  asking  before  she  left  how  soon  her  mistress 
would  be  home. 

"Soon,  Cassie;  very  soon,"  she  answered. 

"  'Cause,  honey, "  I  heard  her  say  as  the  girl  went 
out  on  the  veranda  with  her,  "  'cause  yeh  know 
them  two  months  is  all  but  gone." 

"No  need  to  tell  me — I  remember." 

"I's  feard  things  heah  might  larn  yeh  to  forget. 
I — I  spect  yeh  couldn't  come  now — right  away?" 
There  was  so  much  earnestness  in  the  woman's  voice 
that  it  compelled  my  attention,  half  unconscious 
that  I  was  listening,  until  they  had  ceased  talking. 


PERSEPHONE  245 

"Nonsense,  Cassie;  why  should  I?  You  can 
attend  to  the  place  a  little  longer.  It  will  not  be 
long  that  either  of  us  will  have  it  to  care  for. " 

"Tain't  the  place,  Missee  Perse,  and  'tain't  the 
work.     But  sence  I  went  in  thar  with  them  flowers, 
somethin'  made  me  'member  Miss  Clio's  fear  for  yo' 
future,  an'  what  yer  promised  her." 

"That  will  do,  Cassie;  you  can  go!"  The  voice 
was  imperious,  and  I  heard  no  reply,  only  the 
woman  walking  slowly  toward  the  steps,  and  then 
I  heard  the  girl's  quick  feet  follow  her,  and  could 
make  out  a  murmur  of  voices  in  which  Cassie  seemed 
to  be  petting  her,  and  trying  to  comfort  her  in 
some  way.  Then  I  heard  the  girl  say: 

"Good-by,  Cassie.  I  shall  never  be  cross  again, 
and  I  will  not  forget." 

I  began  to  wonder  in  an  aimless  way  what  it  all 
meant.  The  girl  was  all  I  could  wish  for  as  a  com 
panion,  and  I  was  seriously  thinking  of  proposing 
that  she  should  go  to  England  with  me.  Surely, 
I  thought,  she  could  earn  a  better  living  there  than 
among  these  uncouth  people,  who  seemed  averse 
to  giving  her  any  help,  if  I  could  judge  by  the  Snod- 
grass  family.  I  had  never  heard  her  mention  a 
friend  or  even  an  acquaintance.  Several  times  I 
was  about  to  broach  the  subject  of  her  leaving  with 
me  for  a  home,  where  I  could  insure  her  aid  and 
friendship,  but  the  girl's  reticence,  approaching 
mystery,  checked  me,  and  another  incident  did 
more. 


246  PERSEPHONE 

Jack  had  called  her  in  from  the  veranda,  where 
she  was  reading  to  me.  That  was  the  last  day  he 
needed  her  for  his  picture.  He  led  her  where  she 
would  get  the  best  view  of  it. 

"I  want  you,"  he  said  half  laughingly,  but  with 
a  certain  pride  for  his  work  in  his  voice — "I  want 
you  to  take  a  good  look  at  the  face  that  is  to  make 
my  fortune. " 

' '  Your  fortune  ? ' ' 

"Well,  the  first  marker  toward  it.  If  I  ever  win, 
that  will  win  for  me.  I  always  felt  it  would  if  I 
could  find  the  Persephone  I  had  in  mind." 

"And  I  am  it?" 

"Don't  speak  of  yourself  as  'It,'  he  said  gently; 
"we  only  speak  of  humanity  so  when  death  has 
touched  the  earthy  part.  And  the  life  you  have 
helped  me  to  give  to  my  work  has  nothing  of  the 
grim  specter  in  it." 

Her  hand  was  resting  on  the  back  of  a  chair  as 
they  stood  before  the  picture.  He  stooped  and 
touched  it  with  his  lips,  half  in  gratitude,  half  in 
gallantry,  as  he  would  have  done  had  it  been  mine, 
with  as  little  thought  of  what  meaning  such  an 
action  might  have  for  a  girl  so  unused  to  the  empty 
gallantries  of  society.  He  has  a  way  of  doing 
things  carelessly,  which  might  seem  to  others 
significant. 

The  girl  drew  back  and  looked  at  him,  rmch  as 
she  had  done  on  the  day  of  his  impetuous  entrance, 
when  he  saw  her  first.  Then  she  turned  and  walked 
out  to  where  I  was  sitting. 


PERSEPHONE  247 

"He  is  done  with  me,"  she  said,  trying  to  speak 
lightly.  "He  will  need  me  no  more;  the  picture 
is  finished. " 

"Read  something  to  me,"  I  said,  with  a  queer 
feeling  that  neither  of  us  could  talk  just  then. 

She  brought  a  volume  of  Southey,  and  among 
other  quaint  things  read  that  story  of  the  dead 
virgin  whose  body  an  evil  spirit  inhabited  after 
her  own  soul  was  gone.  She  finished  it,  and  then 
turned  suddenly  to  me. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said,  "if  there  are  people  who 
live  on  like  that,  after  all  their  own  soul  has  been 
drawn  from  them — and  if  so,  how  like  animals  with 
only  instincts  they  would  be!" 

This  was  such  a  very  peculiar  question  I  could 
not  find  an  answer  at  once,  and  before  I  could  col 
lect  my  ideas,  voices  were  heard  in  the  court  below, 
and  we  both  seemed  to  forget  to  continue  the 
subject. 

"Pap  says  he's  down  thar  at  the  store  now," 
came  Mrs.  Snodgrass'  falsetto,  "an'  ef  he  gets  wind 
o'  this,  I'll  go  bail  thar'll  be  trouble.  He's  jest  fool 
enough  to  think  thar  ain't  no  one  ekal  to  'er. " 

"Air  yeh  sure  it's  settled  atween  'em?"  The 
questioner  was  the  monotonous  Alviny. 

"Wall,  I  reckon  it  is!  That  was  all  settled 
while  her  marm  was  living — her  doin's,  I  s'pose. 
She  knew  no  one  else  would  evah  marry  'er,  an'  he's 
been  dead  sot  on  her  evah  sence  they  was  chillen. 
An'  he  won't  stand  no  'lusions  'bout  'er,  nuther — 


248  PERSEPHONE 

had  several  fights,  they  say,  up  thar  amongst  them 
charcoal  burners  about  it,  an'  now  they  leave  him 
alone. " 

"An'  they  say,"  broke  in  Hugh,  "that  he  has 
been  puttin'  up  a  right  smart  shanty  in  easy  reach 
of  the  balsams,  with  all  sorts  o'  gim-cracks,  an' 
a  garden  fenced  in,  an'  all. " 

"I'd  think,"  said  Alviny,  "he'd  ruther  live  down 
thar  in  the  bottom." 

"He  can't,  an'  work  in  the  balsams;  an'  then  the 
house  down  thar  is  mortgaged  to  its  full  vally;  an' 
I  reckon  it'll  soon  be  closed.  They  hain't  the 
money  to  pay  it  off. " 

"Some  way,"  said  Hugh,  "I  wouldn't  be  much 
s'prised  ef  she  didn't  marry  him,  after  all." 

"Stuff!"  said  his  mother;  "she  can't  better  her 
self.  No  white  man  in  the  State  'ud  marry  her 
but  Hen  Oker,  even  if  her  marm  was  kep'  like  a 
lady  es  long  as  he  could  afford  it.  An'  some  do 
say  he  married  her  in  furren  parts  afore  he  died ; 
but  that  don't  noways  change  the  fact  that  she  was 
bought  by  his  father  afore  the  wah,  jest  the  same 
es  any  o'  the  other  niggahs. " 

"She  was  white  as  white,"  said  the  other  daugh 
ter. 

"So's  this  'un,  fer  the  matter  o'  that.  But  them 
as  knows  can  tell  the  signs  o'  the  black  blood. " 

Then  Hugh  lounged  out  to  the  gate,  and  the 
women  went  back  to  their  dish-washing,  and  I 
could  hear  no  more.  The  sun  was  going  down 
back  of  the  hills,  whose  tops  seemed  even  more 


PERSEPHONE  249 

gloomy  and  funereal  than  ever.  Jack  had  told 
me  it  was  somewhere  up  among  them  that  the  char 
coal  and  wood-men  lived,  and  I  always  felt  sorry 
for  those  isolated,  unseen  workers.  I  was  think 
ing  of  them  and  the  man's  new  shanty  among 
them  when  I  turned  to  speak  to  Persephone. 

She  also  was  looking  out  toward  the  hills,  and 
her  face  had  in  it  that  which  frightened  me — hope 
lessness! — horror! — dread! — what  was  it?" 

"Persephone!"  I  cried. 

She  turned,  but  looked  at  me  without  speaking. 

"Persephone,  what  is  it?"  I  asked  half  fearfully. 
"You  seemed  to  be  looking  at  some  horrible  thing! 
You  frightened  me. " 

"I  am  sorry,"  she  said;  "I  forgot  I  was  not 
alone." 

"Of  what  were  you  thinking,  child?" 

"Of  what?  Oh,  of  many  things.  Did  you 
ever  become  frightened  through  taking  a  look  into 
your  inner  self? — No.  I  suppose  not.  Well,  I  did 
that  just  now,  and  it  was  not  a  pleasant  picture." 

"Child,  you  give  me  the  horrors,"  I  said;  "don't 
talk  any  more.  Sing  something." 

She  went  in  for  the  guitar.  The  moon  was  just 
rising,  round  and  full,  and  as  bright  almost  as  the 
sun  of  which  the  last  shafts  had  not  yet  disappeared. 
It  made  the  room  light  enough  to  see  the  picture 
from  where  I  sat. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said,  as  she  came  back,  "if 
Persephone  did  not  think,  after  all,  that  it  was 


250  PERSEPHONE 

worth  enduring  Hades  for  the  happiness  she  en 
joyed  in  her  season  of  sunshine.  I  think  now  it 
would  have  been.  If  I  had  conceived  the  idea 
before,  the  face  in  Mr.  Hilyard's  Persephone  would 
have  been  triumphant  in  having  once  more  gained 
the  light,  instead  of  fearful  at  the  thought  of  return 
to  darkness. 

"Then  Mr.  Hilyard  is  thankful  you  did  not 
think  of  it, "  said  Jack,  coming  out  on  the  veranda. 
"My  Persephone  is  just  what  I  want  her  in 
expression.  Sing  something  for  me. " 

"For  you?"  she  said,  with  the  first  sign  of  co 
quetry  I  had  ever  seen  in  her  manner,  and  I  found 
myself  watching  her  fearfully  as  she  glanced  at  him, 
showing  her  perfect  teeth  and  brilliant  eyes  in  the 
soft,  cool  light.  What  was  it  ailed  the  girl? — where 
was  the  anguish  of  a  few  moments  before — or  traces 
of  the  thoughts  her  few  sentences  had  given  the 
key  to?  She  smiled  down  in  Jack's  face,  who  had 
stretched  himself  lazily  beside  her,  as  if  she  had 
never  done  anything  but  smile.  Once  she  saw  me 
looking  at  her  curiously,  and  must  have  understood, 
for  she  leaned  over  and  laid  her  hand  on  mine.  It 
was  cold. 

"Your  hands" — I  began. 

"Never  mind,"  she  said,  "they  will  get  warm — 
sometime." 

Then  she  sang.  I  had  heard  her  sing  often,  but 
never  as  she  did  then.  I  know  of  nothing  with 
which  to  compare  it.  Jack  listened  carelessly  at 
first.  He  had  heard  many  fine,  better-trained 


PERSEPHONE  251 

voices,  but  never  a  more  sympathetic  one,  or  one 
with  so  much  expression.  Added  to  this,  there 
was  a  magnetic  power  in  the  voice,  or  in  the  girl 
herself,  which  forbade  listlessness  when  she  sang. 
It  overcame  Jack's  supineness.  I  could  see  him 
listening  as  I  had  never  known  him  to  listen  to  any 
woman  before,  his  eyes  almost  as  bright  as  her 
own.  Did  she  notice  it,  too?  Her  cheeks  were 
flushed.  I  could  see  her  eyes  were  on  his  as  she 
went  from  a  pathetic  slave  song  to  one  she  had 
found  in  a  late  magazine.  I  had  heard  the  same 
song  several  times  before,  and  never  remembered 
the  words.  I  heard  her  sing  it  that  once,  and  I  do 
not  think  I  shall  ever  forget  them : 

"When  the  reaper  rests  to  bind 

Summer  into  sheaves, 
Wouldst  thou  ask  the  harvest  wind 
Why  it  loves  the  leaves? 

Wouldst  thou  ask  of  word  or  tune 

Why    their   souls    agree  ? 
Or  why  the  ever  changeful  moon 

Woos  the  inconstant  sea? 

Nature  asks  not  whence  or  how, 

Nature   cares   not   why. 
Tis  enough  that  thou  art  thou, 
And  that  I  am  I." 

Before  she  had  finished  I  heard  someone  coming 
up  the  steps  toward  us.  She  must  have  heard  it, 
too,  and  known  who  it  was,  for  the  flush  died  out 
of  her  face,  though  she  did  not  falter  in  the  song. 
The  steps  stopped  beside  her.  With  the  last  line 
her  hand  dropped  to  her  side,  where  Jack  lay.  Did 


252  PERSEPHONE 

he  touch  it?  I  could  not  see  from  where  I  sat.  I 
know  she  raised  it  and  touched  it  to  her  lips.  Then 
she  arose  and  turned  to  the  man  standing  beside 
her. 

"  You  have  come,  Hen, "  she  said ;  "  I  am  ready. " 

"I  was  afraid  yeh  might  forget,"  said  the  man, 
evidently  for  some  reason  expecting  a  different 
reception.  He  was  a  big,  heavy -looking  country 
man.  "They  told  me  yer  wouldn't  keep  your 
promise." 

"They  did  not  know,"  she  said  quietly,  and  I 
began  to  wonder  how  many  different  phases  of 
character  it  is  possible  for  a  woman  to  have.  "I 
will  keep  my  promise,  and  I  will  go  now — at  once, 
if  you  want  me. " 

"You  know,"  that  was  all  he  said. 

Jack  then  seemed  to  understand.  He  rose  to 
his  feet  and  came  to  me. 

"What  does  it  mean,  Auntie  Jeanne?"  he  asked. 

She  turned  to  me.  "  Can  you  remember  the  con 
versation  we  heard  down  there?"  she  asked. 
"They  spoke  of  a  girl  whom  but  one  white  man 
would  marry.  I  was  the  girl  of  whom  they  spoke. 
You  heard  the  rest  of  the  story — no  need  to  repeat 
it.  And  I  must  go — go  now  while  I  am  able.  I 
thank  you  for  the  sunshine  you  have  given  me.  It 
will  help  to  lighten  the  balsam  woods  for  the  rest 
of  my  life.  Good-by. " 

Jack  sprang  to  her  side  as  she  went  to  take  the 
man's  hand. 


PERSEPHONE  253 

"Persephone — wait!"  he  said;  "Where  are  you 
going?  I  want  you." 

"You  will  want  me  no  more.  You  have  that," 
and  she  pointed  through  the  window.  Then  she 
turned  to  him  defiantly.  "Do  you  know  what  I 
am?"  she  asked;  "I  am  the  child  of  a  slave — ah! 
I  thought  that  would  change  you,"  —as  he  drew 
back  with  a  gesture  as  if  to  stop  her.  "Just  now 
I  saw  what  was  in  your  eyes,  and  that  memory 
will  be  with  me  always.  But  I  knew,  even  in  my 
triumph,  that  it  could  not  last — the  tainted  blood 
would  drown  it.  I  remember  my  mother's  story. 
That  she  was  a  wife  did  not  save  her  from  desert  ion." 

Then  she  came  over  to  my  side. 

"  Do  not  judge  me  harshly, "  she  whispered.  "At 
first  I  thought  you  knew,  and  after  I  saw  him  I 
could  not  tell  you.  You  see,"  and  she  laughed  a 
little,  "I  am  Persephone.  I  knew  what  the  falling 
leaves  would  bring,  but  I  longed  so  for  the  sun- 
light." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  Jack  demanded  as  she 
passed  him  on  her  way  to  the  man,  who  stood  as 
if  scarcely  understanding,  but  waiting  for  her. 

"Going?" — and  she  laughed  again.  "I  am  go 
ing  where  the  other  Persephone  went  to.  Come, 
Hen." 

"We  are  going  into  the  balsam  hills,"  said  the 
man,  taking  her  hand,  and  they  walked  away  in 
the  moonlight  down  the  steps.  She  did  not  look 
back  once, 


254  PERSEPHONE 

That  was  two  years  ago.  We  are  back  in  Eng 
land  again,  where  Jack's  picture  has  put  him 
on  the  high  road  to  fortune,  and  has  won  for  him 
an  enviable  position  in  his  profession.  He  is  not 
quite  the  same  boy  as  he  was  when  we  took  that 
trip  to  the  Carolina  hills.  He  is  a  little  more  quiet 
and  less  careless  in  little  things.  And  I  don't  hear 
his  boyish  laugh  through  the  house  so  often  now. 
I  notice  that  he  keeps  his  sketches  of  that  summer 
in  a  portfolio  by  themselves,  and  always  near  him. 
I  see  him  looking  over  them  often,  smoking  very 
big  cigars,  and  very  many  of  them.  But  of  his 
model  for  Persephone  we  have  never  exchanged 
words  since  that  September  night  when  we  saw 
her  last,  led  down  the  steps  by  the  man  from  the 
balsam  hills. 

It  is  the  only  subject  in  our  lives  which  we  ap 
pear  by  common  consent  to  silently  avoid.  It 
seems  to  be  the  one  about  which  we  can  have  noth 
ing  to  say. 

And  I  do  not  think  the  time  will  ever  come  when 
we  shall. 


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